


Cirrus Cloud

by silenceia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: 2nd person POV, Harry is Skull, Skull has everyone thinking he's male, also he's a troll, sort of fem!Harry, which means you're Harry who is Skull
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:03:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8977033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silenceia/pseuds/silenceia
Summary: In which you are Acacia Potter and drift around in the world. The war's over and now most of what you do is out of boredom, until you meet a certain hitman.





	1. Chapter 1

**_Cirrus Clouds_ ** _: Detached clouds in the form of white, delicate filaments, mostly white patches or narrow bands. Cirrus clouds are always composed of ice crystals, as a rule when these clouds cross the sun’s disk they hardly diminish its brightness. Before sunrise and after sunset, cirrus is often colored bright yellow or red. These clouds are lit up long before other clouds and fade out much later._

* * *

 

It’s a hot day in Italy. It is a stupid thing to note. The days here are all hot, especially in summer. You shouldn’t have come in summer. Maybe you shouldn’t have come at all. You don’t even really know why you’re here.

Then again, you don’t know why you do a lot of things these days. How did it start? You just wanted to get away, you suppose. From Britain, from the strangers that think they know you, from the friends you _thought_ knew you, but they don’t, not really. How could they, when even you don’t know who you are some days. Acacia Potter is an empty name and you who are stuck with it are empty, too, drifting without purpose. You’re a tool that did its job and now you’re supposed to look pretty in a display cabinet.

You didn’t fit into the cabinet. You used to fit into a cupboard under a set of stairs, but now you’re too tall for it. Too much for the men and women that try catch your attention, too. Some managed, for a while, but you lost interest eventually. Your friends weren’t happy about that. George was a perfect gentleman, wasn’t he? You liked him, didn’t you? And you could both have done with a little cheering up after the war, don’t deny it.

You liked Charlie better, though. He was more adventurous. More daring. His past wasn’t so entwined with yours, you liked that. You fell out of love with George and into friendship with Charlie. He showed you dragons and those kept your attention for a while. Maybe you missed the danger of the war back then. You did try the whole Auror thing before, but that didn’t even last half as long as your relationship with George. It was the display case thing, you guess. You didn’t get to go out and catch Death Eaters, oh no, not _you,_ precious Kacey Potter. You were far too busy being sent to Ministry functions to hold speeches and look nice in newspaper pictures. In training, no matter what you did, you were praised, never criticised. They made you show them spells even though they were supposed to teach you. Practice duels - your opponents went in there expecting to lose against the Woman-Who-Won, and so they did. There was no challenge, only frustration. Just like with George, and aren’t you horrible and selfish for leaving him when he’d lost Fred, his other half.

What about what _you_ lost? Or rather, what about what you never had in the first place?

You died for George, for Teddy, for Ron, for Hermione, for Luna, for Neville, for Ginny, for all of them. You don’t have to live for them, too. Maybe that’s why you left.

Charlie got it. Molly wanted him to stay in England to stand in for Fred, and that was fine for a bit, of course he wanted his family taken care of, but he wasn’t Fred and she wouldn’t understand or listen, so he went back to his dragons and you went with him.

You liked the dragons and you liked Charlie, but the dragon reserve wasn’t where you belonged, so you left again. But everywhere magical you went was the same and people knew who you were. You’re in history books, magazines, even magical science books. You survived the killing curse twice, you defeated Tom Riddle, you are a noble lady and filthy rich to boot, wizards and witches anywhere know who you are. In the places that they don’t you never stay because they tend to be isolated and ill-educated. As if Britain wasn’t bad enough.

The magical world bored you so you found the muggle one again. You had to study up on a lot of things so you could reconnect, you hadn’t even noticed how much you had begun to disregard non-magicals since learning you were a witch. Isn’t that weird? You grew up among them.

You were still bored, though. You tried staying in some places, but eventually none could hold your interest. You dated some men, some women, but it never worked out. When you visited Britain, you barely found common ground with your old friends, the ones that still talked to you after you left George days after rejecting his proposal. You should have just loved him like he deserved, _why_ couldn’t you do that little thing? They called you selfish and spoiled, your fame must’ve gone to your head. Now, you don’t visit Britain anymore except to visit your godson.

Maybe you should have died with Voldemort. But you came back from King’s Cross because you felt like there was still something out there for you, and since you had nothing better to do, why not look for it? Just because places and people eventually bore you, doesn’t mean you don’t find them beautiful before they do, doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy meeting new and interesting people. Places bore you, but you could never grow bored of the world at large, it is so vast and amazing.

You’ve become an adrenaline junkie. The thrill of danger when you go parachuting or rock-climbing is addicting. Maybe that’s why, when you see a battered bike at a yard sale, you buy it. Or maybe it’s because Sirius might have taught you to drive a bike, had he lived, and you like how it makes you feel connected to your late godfather.

Driving a bike is even better than riding a broom, you find. Brooms have so many safety-charms built in which takes some of the thrill away. Bikes though, something about the roaring of the engine and the feel of the road passing under you, it just gets to you. You love it. You begin to do stunts with the bike. You make jumps, flips, drive off of high places. Finding that the bike isn’t really built for stuff like that, you buy yourself a new one that was made for stunt driving. The old one you begin to enchant like Sirius did his so long ago. You don’t use magic much anymore, and you have to look up a fair few things in the number of books you’ve acquired, but in the end you can combine bikes and flying into one. The flying bike is much more comfortable for travel than your Firebolt, and faster too. It reaches Thestral-speeds.

Your stunt bike sees more use though. You grew tired of many things, but stunt-biking wasn’t one of them. Sometimes you got distracted from it, but this is what you _love_.

One time in China, you picked up some martial arts. When you took a punch to the stomach, you noticed something odd - it didn’t hurt as much as it should have. You just breathed the impact away. There wasn’t even a bruise later. You never seemed to have bruises at the end of the evening.

Being Kacey Potter, you tend to get into trouble at times, and those days seeking the thrill of adrenaline was more often than not the reason for it. That time in China, you ended up fighting in an underground fight club. You weren’t the best of fighters, hadn’t done martial arts for long. You’ve always been tenacious and scrappy though, growing up the way you did, and you know how to fight dirty. More often than not you walked out of those fights the winner, though you did get hurt often. Which suited you just fine, seeing as the whole point of the exercise was to find out just what the heck is happening to your injuries.

It’s not really healing. It’s more… _repairing_. Your body repairs itself whenever you get hurt. You had to skip countries eventually when someone brought a knife to a fight and you ended up stabbed in a way you shouldn’t have stood up from. That was the first time you saw the purple fire doing the repairing thing on your body, and that was the first time you got involved into a Mafia fight; the Triads were quite unwilling to let you leave China. You didn’t really care about their opinion, though, and you’re quite good at disappearing. Magic has to be good for something, after all.

You laid low after that episode, though. Stayed far away from any fighting. Somehow ended up travelling with a circus for a while. You used _Skull de Mort_ as your stage name, a final fuck-you to Voldemort. Your sense of humor is a bit weird these days, you like the thought that Riddle would turn in the grave he doesn’t have if he knew that his old moniker is in any way related to a muggle entertainer’s stage name. You find this so inappropriately funny you develop the most obnoxious and ridiculous stage persona for Skull you can imagine - loud, dumb, arsehole-ish.

Circus was fun for a while, you might do that again in the future. You’ve noticed that you don’t age as you should, much slower than the average witch, so you can probably look forward to a long life. What with your weird purple fire healing you from anything you’ve suffered so far, you might actually manage to die of old age someday.

You’re in Italy now. One of the clowns told you that this was the most beautiful country in the world. You’ve never been here before, it always struck you as too close to Britain for your comfort. It isn’t _actually_ that close, but you do know that some Pureblood families have Italian ancestry, like the Zabinis. You’re planning on sticking to the muggle world, though, so it’s not an issue. It’s been six years since the Battle of Hogwarts anyway, the hype around you must have died down by now, you probably wouldn’t get recognised. Especially not since your black hair is no longer growing out of your head in that colour. It was gradual, but purple, the same shade of that odd purple fire, has been bleeding into the colour of your hair. Your eyes aren’t as green as they used to be either, and you no longer need glasses. Your scars have disappeared entirely. When you visit Teddy, you now employ glamour charms.

You cease your reminiscing in favour of looking around for somewhere to cool down. A beach might be nice, but in this weather the crowds will be awful. Maybe you should invest into a private beach. Aside from the hideously hot weather, the country really is gorgeous. You could see yourself having a house here. Not too large, but not too small. With a nice garden big enough to fly around over it, and space to drive your bike. Maybe something on the country. On a mountain, possibly? Somewhere secluded, though.

Speaking of your bike, doesn’t it have temperature charms all over it? Oh, why didn’t you think of that before? Why didn’t you just use a cooling charm? Ah yes, you forgot the incantation. Haven’t hit any books lately, have you?

You duck into an alley. A wave of your wand has your bike unshrunk from the charm bracelet you keep it on along with broomstick and stunt bike. Another spell and you’re wearing your biker suit and helmet. You look like Skull de Mort now. Mounting the bike, you are relieved that the temperature charms work just fine because the biker suit would be really uncomfortable in the heat.

You make to drive, and then suddenly a weight sits itself on the back of your bike and a gun is pressed to your head. “Drive,” is snapped at you in measured Italian, and considering the shouts coming from further back, as well as the loud engines, _yes_ , driving might be a good idea.

You don’t take well to orders though, so gun-toting arse is in for an uncomfortable ride. You’re Skull de Mort, after all, and your unwanted passenger better hold on tight if he doesn’t want to end up a smear on the sticky asphalt.

You drive as if the devil possesses you, leave the pursuers behind quickly. Arse on the back of your bike has to stash the gun away pretty damn quickly so he can sling his arms around your waist like a vice while you tear around corners and take curves so tightly you’re practically horizontal on the street. At one point, you jump over a giant hole in the middle of the streets where construction guys are doing something with gas pipes. Your passenger makes a strangled sound halfway between horror and elation, and you’re finding this pretty damn fun.

You finally stop in front of your hotel, though, and the arse climbs off. It’s public space, so he leaves the gun wherever it is he put it. You meanwhile lean against your bike and study him. He’s tall, wears a tailored suit and a fedora that you have no idea of how it stayed on his head during the crazy bike chase. You can’t see his face, it’s shadowed by the fedora, but you note that there are some very impressive curly sideburns framing it and that his chin is pointy.

He looks like a Mafia assassin. Maybe you should ask him if he is one.

He says something in Italian that sounds haughty and faintly mocking. You decide to be annoying almost instantly. “Kneel before the great Skull-sama for he has saved your life, Sideburns-kun!” you crow in Japanese, using your most Annoying Voice™. He twitches very oddly and you mentally pat yourself on the shoulder for a job well done, at least until Sideburns-kun bridges the distance between you impossibly fast and you suddenly have a gun pressed to your stomach where no civilian can see.

Now, you are fairly certain that you’ll survive a gunshot, it should be much less messy than being gutted with a knife, but the Triads are still looking for you and you really don’t want to traumatise the children currently on this street. Also, it’ll probably hurt, you won’t enjoy that at all.

Sideburns-kun hisses in clipped English, proving that he must have recognised some British accent in your Japanese, “You will take me to my hotel, _Lackey_ , and you will be very grateful for being able to work for me.”

You mentally shrug. Eh. If he wants another bike ride from hell, who are you to argue? Sideburns-kun probably regrets it, judging from the curses he shouts at where he must assume your right ear is beneath your helmet. It’s hilarious, you laugh your arse off. Inwardly, anyway.

His hotel is the most pretentious place you’ve ever seen. Well, okay, that’s an exaggeration. You’ve been tons of places. It’s just an average pretentious hotel. But it’s the most pretentious hotel you’ve seen today!

Sideburns-kun climbs off your bike quickly. You give him a one-fingered salute and shout, “Remember this auspicious day on which you met the great Skull-sama, Sideburns-kun! Treasure the memory of being able to bask in my glorious presence-”

Someone pokes your leg. Distracted, you turn to find a little boy with ice cream in his hands. “Are you Skull de Mort?” he asks you. “I saw you in a circus!” A distressed mother runs up.

“Dominic! I told you not to ask every biker you see-“

“I am!” you shout gleefully. “I am the great Skull de Mort, best stuntbiker to ever have lived! The Immortal Skull-sama!”

The boy squeals and hugs your leg, looking up at you with adoring puppy eyes. “You’re so cool!”

“I am! Want an autograph and a picture?”

“Yes, Mister Skull!”

You happily oblige, Sideburns-kun forgotten completely.

“I want to be just like you, Mister Skull!” the boy tells you.

“But then you wouldn’t be you!” You protest. “You would be me, and that would be weird and your lovely Mama would miss you! Wouldn’t she?” You shoot the mother, a pretty thing with freckles all over her face and grandma-glasses perched on her nose, a smouldering look. Of course, she can’t see it what with the helmet you’re wearing, but she giggles and blushes anyway. You give her an autograph, too, and kiss her hand for good measure (okay, you just lift her hand to your helmet) before driving off into the sunset to her and her boy’s admiring gazes. Okay, it’s afternoon and there’s no sunset, but the sentiment counts! The handful of glitter you threw into the air should make up for the lack of sunset, at least.

You make it back to your hotel - a cozy, completely non-pretentious place that serves amazing tiramisu - and through the next two days without further incidents. Then Sideburns-kun shows up again, waiting in your room when you come back from shopping for a spare helmet. “Sideburns-kun! You couldn’t resist the magical pull of the glorious Skull-sama’s presence?!” you crow.

He looks like a Mafia assassin. He has a gun, a suit and a fedora, he’s probably one. But don’t judge a book by its cover, Skull! Remember how much trouble that can get you into? You better ask, but make it seem innocent. “Are you a Mafia assassin?” you ask innocently.

“No,” he says, pointing a gun at your face. Uh. You can probably survive a gunshot, but maybe not one to the face. Can you regenerate brainmatter? Let’s not test that, ‘kay?

“Cool!” you answer him. “I mean, you look like one, but I wasn’t sure, and the great Skull-sama is far too amazing and smart to judge someone by their looks! You’re quite attractive, actually.” Butter him up, that usually works. You’re a pretty girl, he’s a guy. Of course, you’re still wearing a helmet and your biker suit conceals anything feminine about your statue, and Skull de Mort is widely believed to be male, but flattery is flattery.

“I’m the World’s Greatest Hitman,” he continues, then smirks. “And yes, I am aware of my outstanding looks, but thank you kindly for pointing them out, lackey.”

Hitman, assassin. What’s the difference? Is there one? Probably. Maybe you should ask. Maybe you should wait with that until he points the gun away from your face. That would be nice. In the meantime, butter him up some more. “Nice! We’re gonna be like, The Terrific Twosome! The Daring Duo! Best buddies forevermore, Sideburns and Skull!”

Sideburns-kun is resistant to your buttering him up, and you’re suddenly on the ground with his neatly polished shoes placed on your helmet. The gun’s now pointed at your chest, though. That’s better than your face! “Shut up, lackey,” Sideburns-kun says in a terrifyingly soft tone. “You will drive me to a certain location. You will wait while I enter. You will drive me to my hotel afterwards. And, lackey, you will do this every day until I have no use for you anymore. And if you decide to leave-“ He fires the gun. You feel the bullet slide along your suit and bury into the ground close to your neck. You yelp obligingly. “-then I will find you and punish you.”

“Ahahaha,” you laugh, kinda pissed off because you’re no one’s lackey and he can shove his gun up his arse for trying to make you one. But, you’re also not in the mood for fighting - he probably likes fighting anyway, no need to reward his arseholery - so you resolve to be as annoying as you can possibly be. “Sure thing, senpai! The Great and Glorious Skull de Mort is at your service forever and ever! I will stick to your side like superglue! Like that glitter you can never get rid of! Like peanut butter to jelly! Like fingers to a hand!” Wait, no, fingers are detachable. Actually, can you regrow fingers? Huh, something to think about.

Sideburns-kun fires again and this time you feel a slight burn on the skin of your neck. “Good lackeys are silent,” he says menacingly.

“I’ll be the best lackey ever! Just watch me lackeying around, Sideburns-senpai!” You are decidedly not silent and Sideburns’ annoyed twitch is delicious to watch.

It’s even more delicious imagining the face he’ll make once the prank enchantment you put on the back of your bike yesterday (just in case another gun-waving arse jumped on it) activates. Though it might take him a while to find _Owned by the Great Skull-sama_ written on his arse in bright purple.

By the time he finds out, long after you’ve driven him to and fro, you’re well out of the city. He’s gonna hunt you down and punish you? Ha! You picked the wrong target, Sideburns-senpai.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter you continue to annoy a certain hitman, make friends of the undead variety, and start a new career with the goal of becoming a local hero to children.

It takes him a while, but Sideburns-kun makes good on his promise to find you. You’re twenty-four now and have joined another circus, currently in Vienna. It really is quite the fun life, includes lots of travelling around, interesting people to meet, and of course, bike-driving.  The fame can get annoying, but whatever! At least this time, it’s for something you enjoy doing, and something you actually _did_. No one’s having world-saviour-delusions over _Skull de Mort_ who takes being an idiot and an egomaniac simultaneously to a whole new level.

Actually, being as famous as you are, it’s a minor miracle it takes Sideburns an entire year to find you. Or maybe he was too busy being the greatest hitman in the world to find that really annoying stuntbiker who is somehow responsible for turning his butt into a permanent-for-three-weeks reminder that _he got owned._

You sit on the steps of your circus wagon enjoying the sunshine as much as you can wearing your biking outfit and helmet when he stalks up to you. He doesn’t have his gun drawn but an aura of sheer _Doom_ surrounds him, people wisely get out of the way. “Sideburns-kun!” you greet. “Long time no see, my fedora-wearing best friend!”  You try to hug him and fail in an epic way that results in you tripping and hitting your helmet on something hard. 

“Oh my,” Sideburns grits out. “It seems you tripped. Let me just take you somewhere private so I can make sure you aren’t hurt, dying, and in excruciating pain, lackey.” He bends down, grabs you by your boot, and drags you to your wagon.

You decide to be difficult and start shouting. “No! Woe is me! Must fate be so cruel?”

“Fate, no. Me, _yes_.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, I was addressing the world!” You try kicking him. It’s not working, it may have something to do with the way he’s dragging you up the stairs pretty much upside down. “Tell my family the Great Skull-sama loves them!” you shout at the world. Experience should have taught you that the world would ignore you.

“Have fun with your friend, Skull!” the bearded lady waves and winks conspiratorially at you.

“Nohohooooo!” you wail before the darkness takes you. Then Sideburns lets go of you and flicks the light on. Which has you lying at his feet but not blinking stupidly because your helmet’s visor is enchanted. “Hi!” you greet from the floor.

“Hello, _lackey_.” He makes a simple greeting sound threatening. Both Riddle and Snape could’ve learnt something from him, he’s bloody intimidating.

“’Sup?” you ask. “You neglected me! You took a _whole_ year to find me! Greatest Hitman my arse, you just don’t like me!”

He glowers at you. “It’s quite funny. I tracked you to Romania and you ‘had just left due to a private matter. In Bulgaria, I am suddenly assaulted by Triad members in various stages of dress. It turns out you _never_ were in Ireland.” His tone gets softer the more he speaks in a really unsettling way. “And in St. Petersburg, I was delivered _this_.” He holds a napkin in front of your face.  In familiar handwriting and purple ink, something is written on it. “ _Almost got me, Sideburns-kun! Better luck next time… if you dare,_ ” you read the words out loud. Beneath the script, there’s a rather amusing drawing of a stick figure with a hat being mowed over by a bike with another stick figure on it.

“You poor thing,” you say. “It appears you have been the victim of a cruel prank.”

“Indeed,” he hisses, and oh, he’s pissed. “ _Your_ cruel prank.”

“Framed! I’ve been framed!” you protest indignantly. “I would _never_ prank my great friend Sideburns-senpai!”

You already know his real name though. He calls himself Reborn and has indeed the reputation of being the Greatest Hitman. He’s firmly entrenched in the Mafia World and widely believed to be affiliated with something called the Vongola Famiglia, though officially he works freelance. Just because you don’t believe he’s capable of killing _you_ doesn’t mean you’re an idiot about a hitman stalking you.

He holds the napkin before his own eyes. “Signed, the Great and Immortal Skull-sama,” he reads out dryly. “This is your handwriting. _The waitress saw you writing it_.”

Of course she did. _You_ were the waitress.

“Ahaha!” you laugh nervously. “What’s a little prank between friends!”

“ _We_ ,” he snaps, ripping the napkin into tiny shreds. “Are not _friends_.”

You make a mournful noise. “But Sideburns-senpai! After all we’ve been through together!”

The click of a gun makes you shut up. He’s aiming at your face. You’ve charmed the helmet bullet-proof, though, so you aren’t that worried. Anyway, you can probably take him if it comes to that.

“ _My name is not Sideburns._ ” You look into his eyes. They’re like the abyss. How are you even still alive? The world he comes from does not frown on murder.

“Your sideburns _are_ pretty nice, though,” you answer in a jolly tone. “How’d you get them to curl like that, Sideburns-senpai?”

“That is _not_ my name and the curl is natural.” There are people that seem to get calmer the angrier they are. He’s one of them and he must be positively _fuming_. It makes you all giddy inside.

“Huh.” You tilt your head, examining said curl. “Wow. It’s like, the Eighth Wonder of the World, Reborn-senpai.”

You throw yourself to the side just as the gunshot rings. Thank Merlin you’re so flexible! “So you do know my name. Who do you work for?” he snaps out.

“This circus?” you say in a questioning tone, because duh. He really should have guessed that?

His eyes narrow. “Helmet off,” he orders.

“Nope!” you answer cheerfully.

“ _Now_.”

“It’s stuck!” you protest.

He raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Stuck,” he echoes.

“Yep!” you demonstrate, appearing to try lifting the helmet off of your head but in fact activating the sticking function which makes that impossible. “Stuck.”

Reborn puts his gun away and tries to get the helmet off. It doesn’t work, instead he ends up holding you up by your helmet. “What the hell,” he says.

“You can let me down now, senpai,” you point out. Instead of listening, he tries shaking you. “Oww! Stop! Yeowtch!”

“Huh. It really is stuck,” Reborn remarks.

“I told you, you arse!”

“Ho?” he asks dangerously. “Is that any way for a mere lackey to speak?”

“Go to hell!” You pause for a second. “I mean, ahhh! I’m sorrryyyyyyyy!” you wail then at the top of your lungs at a pitch that has him twitching oddly.

He draws his gun again.

Someone knocks against the wagon door rather forcefully. “De Mort! Rehearsal is in ten minutes! No blowing off this time!” someone shouts in German.

“Be right there!” you shout back, pushing the gun away and heading for the door. Reborn looks even more pissed now. “You gonna watch?”

“I believe I will _not_.”

Shrugging, you leave him in the wagon. It doesn’t look like he’s out to cause trouble, and you’re happy so long as the Triad folks don’t show up. Not that you can’t handle them, but well. It isn’t much fun dealing with them either. They have even less than a sense of humour than Reborn.

Hmm. You wonder if he’ll find it as funny as you do when you fuck off to Transylvania after rehearsal. Better send him souvenirs so he knows you’re thinking about him…

 ○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○

Transylvania is nice at this time of the year and you now have several vampire friends, sixty percent of which are named Vlad. They’ve been great on advice on souvenirs to send home! You sure hope Reborn enjoys the package filled with all variations of blood pops you could find. You’ve even sent him pictures with your new friends.

_This is me and my friends Vlad and Luc at Chateau Calcassa. The sights are quite enjoyable and tourism is minimal seeing as you can only get here on wings or flying vehicles._

_On this picture, I am enjoying a hunting trip with Vlad, Verena, Luc, Vlad, and Kazimir. There’s bears around here which is fun._

_Here we are at a masked ball. As you can see, I went as myself, Vlad is a bat, and Verena is that girl from that movie with the giant wolves that talk. She even brought her Direwolf to make it authentic._

You hope Reborn isn’t too confused by the fact that your vampire friends are invisible in the pictures…

 ○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○

The vampires are a bit put out that you won’t join them permanently. You promise you’ll visit. Or they can visit you! There’s lots of advancement on sunscreens in the muggle world. And if they get temperature-charmed biking suits, they won’t even need those! Trips during daytime are completely feasible even for vampires! Nutrition isn’t really a problem either, it’s really funny the things some people consider delicacies, people will get away drinking animal blood easily if they claim to be enjoying foreign delicacies.

They say they’ll consider it. Vlad in particular seems quite taken by the idea. He’s been stuck in the woods for ages now and quite amazed when you tell him the kinds of things you’ve seen in the world.

You pat yourself on the shoulder as you leave. You’ve certainly been a great help to the Calcassa Clan!

 ○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○

You go touring the world again. Go see the Niagara Falls, drive over the Himalaya so you can send Reborn a selfie from there. You’re such a good friend.

After that you feel the urge to settle down someplace and become a local hero which will result in invitations to parties and free food. Hm, how to go about that? You’re not really into the Dark Lord fighting thing, besides you did that already and there’s no Dark Lord available anyway.

The perfect plan comes to you in a dream. Divination tells you that it means you’ll die a horrible death. Screw divination, though.

You did consider buying a house in Italy for yourself once, so that’s what you do. It’s a little ways away from a charming little town, a wonderfully spacious villa built on a cliff, at the foot of which you have your own private beach. There’s even a large cave you can access from there, where you decide to keep a ship. You still need to get the ship and you’ll probably need a crew, but whatever, that’s details.

Villa de Mort has everything you want in a home. Not that you have high standards. A bed, a kitchen, a bathroom, you could be happy with just that, as long as there’s a garage for your by now numerous bikes. You’ve got quite the collection now and carrying them all around with you is getting tedious.

Good for you, your villa has a few basement levels built directly into the cliff. Well, actually, _you_ are the one to build them into the cliffs and add expansion charms, but that’s details.

You could probably store an airship down there. Now there’s an idea...

The grounds around Villa de Mort are extensive and gorgeous in an untamed way. You do enjoy gardening though, so you turn one of your basement levels into a garden. Neville’s free for the summer so you invite him over. He’s quite happy about the invitation, he and Hannah had wanted to take a vacation apparently but so far their jobs haven’t yielded enough money to go out of the country. You’re happy he’s happy. Hannah is happy everyone is happy and also that she gets an entire villa to help decorate and stuff. She likes that sort of thing. Also, she and Neville have the renovated guest wing to themselves and you cook for them all the time, that’s awesome too.

So yeah. It’s nice having old friends over and your garden kicks arse. You’ve charmed the ceiling to be like the one in Hogwarts, you can even transport rain in here. There’s a forest, a lake, tons of flowers, access to the beach. It totally rocks.

In a surprise visit, Luna drops by with her new boyfriend. She brings a bunch of creatures with her that she apparently saved and needs some space for. They’re self-sufficient, really! She says. And the demiguise will keep them in line, promise. Okay then, Luna.

It’s really nice catching up with old friends. You decide what the hell and invite Charlie, Andromeda, and Teddy over, too. And Bill and Fleur so you can talk about wards and stuff. You found some interesting stuff on your travels you want to show them anyway.

By the time you’re back to being alone your villa is fully furnished, decorated, and warded. Your garden is its own biosphere with several supposedly extinct creatures, Neville and Hannah are engaged, Teddy’s got his own tree house, and Charlie may or may not have hatched a sea snake down in your cave. You don’t really want to know. If it decides to show itself at some point you’ll at least have someone to talk to.

With all that stuff your ingenious plan to become a local hero had been put on hold. But no more!

Two weeks later you are the nearby town’s most popular person, at least within a certain age group. For you have constructed an ice cart! You’ve even composed a jingle so when you play it, you get mobbed by squealing children wanting ice cream from Florean’s - You named your cart in honour of Florean Fortescue who gave you free ice cream all the time and helped you with your  summer homework. You’ve tried to recreate some of the flavours and been moderately successful, though you’ve got a lot to learn still.

So yeah. Local hero to children, accomplished. You make a killing, too. Everyone now sort of thinks your name is Florean, but eh. Who cares!

The whole business proves fun and at the suggestion of some townspeople, you open a café. De Mort’s sells tea and coffee, pastries, cake, and of course ice cream and yeah, it’s vastly successful. You only own the place though, you don’t really work there. You still have world travelling to attend to.

But for now you’re happy staying here.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you make a new friend who involves you in moneymaking schemes. You'd get shish-kebabbed for them! Wait...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, StarOfTime, this one's for you!

It’s been a month since your café opened. You still drive your ice cream cart around, though. You like to feel appreciated, after all, and you like making kids happy. Which the combination of ice cream and your stuntman antics achieves rather successfully.

Today you aren’t doing that, though.  Nope, today you’re hanging around at the café and pretending to be a waitress. The cool thing about always wearing a helmet and biking suit is that when wear something else, you’re practically invisible. Even in the magical communities you’re anonymous nowadays, seeing as your hair and eyes are completely purple now and even your lips have a purple tint to them.

Which is weird, but whatever. Vlad said it’s nothing to worry about. He’s been around for a while, he knows stuff, so you aren’t worried.

Anyway, back to the café. You make a pretty good waitress, if you may say so yourself. Maybe a bit enthusiastic, but eh. No one seems to mind and you’re having tons of fun.

Though you are a bit concerned because this hooded guy or maybe girl has been sitting on the bench across the street for three hours now and given how the sun’s beating down from the sky, that can’t be very comfortable and they might get heatstroke. Oh look, now they’re coming over.

“Hi!” You greet perkily, because the uniform you’re wearing is utterly perky and so are you.

“Who owns this place?” the person asks.

“That’d be Mr. de Mort!” you answer. “He’s totally not here right now but I can get him.” You give yourself a mental pat on the back. You’re so subtle today.

“Very well.” The person sits without ordering anything. You hop inside, duck into the bathroom, and a minute later the perky waitress is replaced by the badass stuntbiker. The biking suit makes you seem taller and stronger and far less dainty than you actually are (not like you’re dainty, what with your athletic exercises, you’re actually bloody ripped). You saunter out of the girl’s bathroom and because you feel sorry for the man/woman, grab a Strawberry Stunner Ice Milk for them.

“Hahaha!” You place the ice cream before the mysterious visitor. “Who comes to see the Great and Immortal Skull-sama at his amazing ice cream parlour?”

“Mou,” they say. “You are the same person as before.”

“Eh No! I am not the cute and perky waitress! I am the amazing stuntman Skull de Mort!” You flail a bit. This wasn’t in the script!  “See, I’m wearing a helmet.”

“I did not ask for ice cream so I won’t pay for it.” They begin eating.

“Oh, it’s on the house! You’ve been sitting there for ages, can’t be good for you.” You take a seat in front of them. “So the stunning waitress that isn’t me tells me you wanted to talk to the Great Skull-sama? Want an autograph?”

“No,” they answer flatly. “I want to know if you have ever heard the name Voldemort.”

“Not in a while!” you answer cheerfully. “Wasn’t he offed ages ago?”

Seven years ago, in fact. Wow, that’s long. You’re twenty-four already.  Still look like eighteen though.

It is impossible to gauge the age or even gender of the person in front of you - you can only see the lower parts of the face, smooth cheeks marked with upside-down triangles in indigo, strands of indigo hair peeking out. The upper half of the face is shaded by the hood of the black cloak they wear.

“That is the assumption,” they answer, and you get the feeling that you’re under a great deal of scrutiny right now.

“You’re magical folk then?” you ask.

“I am far more than they could hope to be.” Whoo, mysterious. Well, okay.

“I’m a stuntman,” you tell them. “Name’s Skull.”

“I will charge you for the knowledge of my name,” they answer. You shrug.

“Sure, another ice cream? We’ve got the best in all of Italy!” you boast.

“A strawberry milk will suffice. Plus a fee of-“ they rattle of a rather preposterous sum of money. Ah well. It’s not like you don’t have the money.

With a lighter pocket and a strawberry milk in front of them, you are told their name is Viper.

“Slytherin?”  you hazard a guess.

“It matters not.”

“I suppose it doesn’t.” You appraise each other. You are the first to speak. “I picked the name because it was funny. I’m a muggle entertainer and I figured it’d piss Riddle off posthumously.”

They level a look at you. You feel _judged_.

“It’s funny!” you protest.

“Tasteless. Classless.”

“Pfft, I shit on class. I make my own class!” You cross your arms in front of your chest. “’Sides, if anyone gets to make fun of him, it’s me.”

…judging by the way Viper goes still, you probably shouldn’t have said that. Damn. You really don’t want the magicals knowing about Skull de Mort being Acacia Potter. Skeeter would have a field day with that one, especially since Skull is a male persona and Kacey Potter is most definitely not. You really don’t want her to pick apart your sexual orientation, Magical Britain is seriously backwards concerning that matter.

“Mou,” Viper muses. “How interesting. I assume you want your identity kept quiet.”

“If it isn’t too much trouble,” you answer dryly. “I’m enjoying anonymity, thank you very much.”

Viper rattles off another sum. Oh boy. Shameless, thy name is Viper. Then they take a look around. “And partnership in this establishment. Have you thought about expanding?”

“I do this for fun. It makes people happy!”

Viper stares at you silently. _Judgment._ “It would be too much to hope that you patented the original ice cream flavours, I’m guessing.”

“…err, what? They’re flavours. Can you patent flavours?” you ask curiously. “That’s so weird.”

“Take me to your office, _now._ ”

Ooh boy Skull, you’re in trouble. “Office?” you ask tentatively. “Uhm.”

 _Judgement_.

 

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The two of you end up in your villa because that’s where the papers probably are and because Viper is bloody terrifying. They’ve declared that they’re taking over all financial decisions concerning the business because you suck at it so much. That’s totally fine with you, though. Viper is utterly efficient and you don’t really care about the business anyway. So long as you get to make people happy, Viper can do whatever they want with the café - as long as the prizes are affordable for everyone.

Also, you stipulate that if you expand, you’re renaming the whole thing. You’re still a stuntman, not a business man, and you kind of don’t want your stage name associated with an ice cream chain, which is apparently what Viper wants to turn the whole thing into. Which is fine with you, honestly, you get to make even more people happy via ice cream! But reputation is important.

“The first expansion will be to Mafia Land,” Viper declares. “It’s a theme park-“

“Of _course_ you are Mafia,” you mutter.

“You are aware?” Viper sounds surprised.

“In a sense.”

“Will it interfere with business?”

“So long as you don’t tell the Triads, we’re good.”

“Very well.” Viper begins muttering while writing down calculations and whatnot down. You have absolutely no idea what they’re doing so you set to making dinner.

 

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Somehow, Viper bullies their way into being your financial advisor. They can’t bear to see you suck at business so much. Apparently it causes them physical pain. You don’t actually mind? It’s not like you have use for all that money anyway and if Viper has fun making investments, that’s fine. He’s a pretty cool guy. Or girl, depending on their mood. It’s not like you can judge someone for not committing to a gender when you spend most of your time as a male stuntbiker.

So yeah, in the end you just hire Viper as manager of your finances. Their payment is half of all the profits they make which is apparently rather generous of you, not that anyone’s complaining. You have some stipulations though - no investing in places that endorse child labour, slave labour, or bad and risky working conditions, for one. Also, you’d like some charities for orphans, widows, and war veterans. And abandoned animals, while you’re at it.

Viper is fine with that, too. He’s pretty cool when he’s not being a little shit. Dead smart and snarky to no end.

Also, somehow ends up as your roommate. Viper hangs out at your place so much that you give them a suite of rooms. “Waste of money booking rooms at a hotel when you stay here all the time anyway,” you point out when they protest - Viper is peculiar about owing people. Charging through the nose for ridiculous things they are shameless about. Mooching, never. You find that pretty endearing, especially when you think of all the times people have used you or attempted to use you for your money, your status, or your heritage. “Just deduce the rent from your pay, Vi.” Your friend is female today, wearing a rather fetching skirt beneath the cloak.

And in a completely subtle attempt at bribery, you place a strawberry milk in front of her. You’ve discovered she’s mildly addicted to them. In addition to having a massive sweet tooth.

“Mou, fine.” Viper scowls and takes the drink. “You are an oddity, Skull de Mort.”

Another thing you appreciate about Viper. Unlike everyone else who knows your identity (not that there are many), Viper does not insist on calling you by your birth name. It’s freeing in a way.

“I’m great,” you answer. “You’re pretty cool, too. Want to test this new flavor I came up with?”

“I will charge you for it.”

“Sure sure,” you laugh. “But it’s for business!”

“Service must be paid for.”

“I’m paying in ice cream.”

How can someone whose eyes you never see give such expressive _looks_? Viper is so unique.

 

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You know Viper’s with the Mafia. You’ve never pried, of course. Friends don’t do that. Viper has never asked about your past either, even though you _know_ they’re dying of curiosity. It’s considerate and one of the reason you’ve begun to consider them your best friend. Because is that not what a best friend does, respect who someone is without trying to change them, respect their privacy but lend a listening ear when needed? Support them against the forces of evil? Hermione and Ron were good friends, they were the friends you needed, you loved them without question, but they didn’t do the same in return and wanted to change you to what they thought you should be.

They were good friends but not best friends. And now they aren’t even that anymore. It tore you up back then, but you came to accept it.

You think Viper is best-friend material, definitely.

So when they call you and ask for your help, how could you say no? Their voice sounds strained, in pain; they’re stuck somewhere and have no way to get away.

You swing yourself onto your bike, push the flight button, and activate hyper speed. There’s a loud bang when you break the sound barrier, that’s how fast your bike is. You reach the location in no time at all. It’s, well. Chaos. On fire. People running around fighting weird monsters that you _think_ might be Eldritch Abominations except those are supposed to be fictional.

It’s been a while since your Auror days but you manage to do a locator spell. _There!_ Near that bridge that’s about to collapse. Shit, no. _Under_ that bridge. You put the bike on stand-by and leave it standing in mid-air while you jump off, unclip your Firebolt from your bracelet, unshrink and mount it, and shoot off towards the bridge, towards your friend. Faster, f _aster_! You can see Viper now! “ _Wingardium Leviosa_!” you shout and stop a large chunk of bridge from falling on Viper’s head. Then you’re there and there’s another part of the bridge falling and you can’t levitate two things at once.

So you banish the first piece, throw yourself over Viper, and explode the second one.

You get skewered by shards. “ _Ow,_ ” you groan.

Viper is staring up at you. You notice she has rather pretty cornflower-blue eyes, as far as you can tell in light of the fires burning around you.

“You have a piece of stone coming out of your chest,” Viper remarks. “I believe you have less than a minute to live. Knowing you, you haven’t made your will, have you.”

“Nope!” you answer, managing a grin.

“Typical.”

You laugh and regret it. Drops of blood land on Viper’s lovely skin. Also, _pain_. “Magical shit goes to Teddy, muggle stuff to you.”

Viper scoffs. “Heaven knows I’ll take better care of it than you.”

“Haha,” you laugh.

“You aren’t dead yet,” Viper says. “Remarkable.”

“Immortal Stuntman, remember? Wasn’t a joke. Okay it was, but it was on everyone else. Look who’s laughing now.” You cough up a painful laugh.

Viper blinks, incredulous. Opens her mouth and closes it.

“Mind pulling that stone thing outta me, Vi?” you ask. “I don’t particularly enjoy being shish-kebabbed. Use my wand...”

Viper pries your wand from numb fingers. Proving herself much better at magic than you, a quick spell has the stone lance vanished from your chest. The purple fire sets to repairing you immediately. The other wounds, too, it wasn’t just the one wound. Only the most prominent one.

“Cloud Flames,” Viper remarks. “This is quite surprising. No wonder the Triads are looking for you.”

“Is that what the purple stuff is called?” you ask. A building close to you goes up with a bang. “Never mind. Talk later.” By some miracle, your broom didn’t get damaged. You manage to get on it, Viper behind you. You can tell she isn’t fond of flying by broom. Doesn’t matter, you need to get out of here.

“There is a bike hanging in the air.” Viper’s voice is incredulous.

“Yup! It’s mine! Climb on!”

“We are hundreds of feet above the ground,” Viper answers.

“Then I’m leaving you on the broom by yourself,” you state. Viper glares at you and gingerly climbs on the bike, you follow.

“I do not appreciate your brand of heroics, Skull,” Viper states, voice ringing with disapproval.

“When I do stupid shit like this, you can call me Kacey,” you say. “And wait until we break the sound barrier!”

Viper moans, “I am charging you millions for this.”

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are revelations! Cheers for heart-to-hearts.

Viper isn’t any more fond of your bike than s/he is of your brooms. Well, you don’t really get that, but then again Viper doesn’t understand how you don’t particularly care for money, so you’re even.

The moment you’re home, you break out an old spellbook for healing and leave it and your wand with Viper so s/he (you can’t tell if Vi is female today or if that’s just how the torn robes make them look, so let’s just avoid addressing them with gender-specific pronouns, ‘kay? Just because the ripped clothing reveals Viper was definitely born female doesn’t mean you can make assumptions about their gender) can fix their injuries. They are probably better at it than you are. You’re way out of practice and really don’t fancy blowing up your best friend’s limbs.

Meanwhile, you rummage around for-

“Aha! _There!”_ With a flourish, you present vials of healing potions to Viper. “I got pepper-up, blood-replenisher, pain-suppressor, tons of burn-salve - my friend Charlie is a dragon-handler, you see? - ohhh, and what’s this? Skele-Gro! Yuck!”

Viper looks decidedly unimpressed at your enthusiasm. “Why would an immortal require healing potions?”

“S’not like I go around telling people that,” you shrug. “’Sides, the potions still affect me which is good because the healing takes a while.” You open the pepper-up potion and hand it to Viper. “Bottoms up!”

Viper rolls their eyes but drinks the potions. You have to giggle at the steam coming from their ears.

“So,” you ask brightly. “What was with the Eldritch Abominations? Never saw those in _Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them._ ”

“Of course not. They were illusions.” Viper gives you a disdainful look and waves their hand. A moment later, they’re hooded, robes intact, and looking male. That makes the gender issue so much easier to figure out.

“That’s so cool! Is that magic?” you ask.

“No.” Viper holds out his hand. You have to grin and make a big show of forking money over. “You truly are not aware of Flames?”

You frown and hold out a hand. A tiny purple flame springs up above your finger. It looks fuzzy, not like real fire. “This stuff?” you ask.

Viper hold out his own hand. Flimsy wisps of indigo light dance around it. It’s pretty. They look different from yours though. “These are Flames of the Dying Will. Mine are of the Mist type. Yours are Cloud Flames.”

“Huh. Dying Will?” you ask.

“Also known by tacky names such as Flames of Deathperation or Soulfire,” Viper sneers with disdain. “They do not originate from your soul. No, they are refined from one’s life-force and the strength of your Will and Resolve. Meaning, even a soulless monster can form them if their Will is strong enough.”

“You sound bitter,” you say carefully. Not a demand for answers, never, but if Viper needs help - well, you’d kick Dark-Lord-arse for them.  Huh, does Viper know that? Probably not. “I’d kick Dark Lord-arse for you,” you declare. “Just so you know.”

Viper appraises you. Well, you think he appraises you. With the hood up, it’s hard to tell. “You are far too incompetent,” he declares.

“I did it before!” you squawk.

“Fluke,” Viper dismisses.

You wilt. “Yeah, it was.” Except it makes you a bit happy that Viper sees the truth? The truth that _Acacia Potter the Woman-Who-Won_ is a lie and could never have beaten the monster that was Voldemort if not for luck and circumstance and an old man’s orchestrations. “Mostly Dumbledore’s doing. And luck. Lots of shitty luck.”

“Figures,” Viper sneers.

“So do you want me to kick someone’s arse for you?” you ask curiously.

Viper’s lips curl. “I dealt with them myself.”

“Okay then,” you say.

Silence falls over you two. Then, “I am muggleborn. A pureblooded wizard fell in love with me and secretly courted me until I cared for him also. When I fell pregnant, his family threatened me and attacked me when threats didn’t work. _He_ was made to choose between inheritance and _love_.” The word is sneered like something distasteful. “He picked his inheritance. To prove his loyalty to the family, they tasked him with getting rid of the stain on his honour by killing me. He failed, but I lost the child. But I gained Flames, and those saved my own life.” A cruel twist of lips. “My own parents scorned me for my _indiscretions_ and its consequences, and cast me out. I asked Dumbledore, the great leader of the light, for help, but the family of my would-be murderer? They were his supporters in the Wizengamot. A so-called _Light_ family. His idea of help was to hand me a pouch of galleons and tell me to go far away. Where I couldn’t cause trouble, though he only told me it was for my _safety_. Even if he didn’t even believe that his dear friend Doge’s family could do such awful things.”

“Greater good and all that rot,” you say.

“I did go far. But not before I paid them back for what they did to me.” Viper clenches his fists. “I found out that _he_ coveted me and had been manipulating me from the start by use of Mist Flame illusions though he did not realise what they were. I had been mediocre as a witch, but my Mist Flames are far stronger than those of anyone I’ve ever come across, and _he_ learned the true meaning of pain before his mind broke. I left the pouch of galleons Dumbledore gave me with him, and then went far away. In a bid to find out more about the strange power I had, I learned that Flames were something used in the Mafia, and so I became a part of that world.”

“Huh,” you say. You kind of want to hug Viper but remember how smothered you used to feel when Hermione did that whenever you told her something personal. But perhaps, since Viper shared his past with you, sharing your own is appropriate? A secret for a secret, and this _is_ your best friend. “I was raised by muggles,” you say. “My aunt and uncle, and my cousin in a way. They hated magic, they thought they could _stamp it out of me_. My _room_ was the cupboard under the stairs and they treated me like a slave. I had no idea about being a witch until Hagrid finally came to give me the Hogwarts letter. I thought I had a place to belong, finally.” You sigh. “It turns out I was a freak even in the Magical World. Worse, a _hero_. You know, people don’t expect anything from freaks, but a hero? Has to keep being heroic, has to be strong, kind, smart but not _too_ smart. I didn’t know this back then. I just blindly walked the path set for me by an old man, let myself be formed, watched loved one after loved one sacrifice for a cause that I was unwilling figurehead of but kept in the dark about its operations.” You laugh bitterly. “And at the end of it, I found out that all my life had been leading me to the moment I was to sacrifice myself for the greater good of all. And I did. I died. But I was given the choice to come back, and I took it. I beat Voldemort, a product of unlikely circumstances, that was supposed to be it. The end of the bad things, the beginning of a peaceful life.”

“Yet you are here,” Viper states. You laugh.

“It turns out,” and your voice rings with old hurt and pain, “that my _peaceful life_ was as scripted as the one before. Not by Dumbledore but by everyone else. Those I called friends, those I called family, strangers on the street, strangers in foreign countries. Because I was a hero and there were _expectations_. I was supposed to rekindle my romance with George Weasley, and I did. I was supposed to support him and help him through his grief for his twin, and I did. I was supposed to become an Auror, I did that, too. I was made to hold speeches, lead teams, speak in trials, rebuild the whole bloody _world_ for them, _I tried_. Didn’t go over well when I quit, but everyone figured that sweet heroic Acacia Potter would become a healer instead. Or a Hogwarts teacher. Or a house wife. Not that there’s anything wrong with those, I _did_ consider them.

“Then George asked me to marry him and I realised that I couldn’t do it. That he was dear to me, but I didn’t feel like myself around him. Like I was pretending - not to him but to _me_ , and that was wrong. I said no, my friends got pissed, the newspapers got wind of it, my whole life sort of blew up. Most of my friends were Weasleys or associates, you see? And they always were somewhat quick to judge, with explosive tempers, most of them at least. Newspapers made everything worse, we never got around to fixing the libel laws.” You snort. “Can’t fix what doesn’t exist, no?”

“So you left,” Viper deduces.

“No. I wallowed in self-pity and heart-brokenness for weeks. The friends that I still had left were pretty much all out of the country or busy with other things. I felt like the lowest scum of the Earth, wanted to beg them to take me beg, I _did_ do that, but they always had _conditions_. That’s not how friendship works, right? You can’t just say, I will love you _if_ you go back to being fun heroic Kacey Potter again. _If_ you fix your relationship with George and eventually become Kacey Weasley.” You smile down sadly at your clenched fists at remembering your pain, which turned to anger, and at some point much later, to acceptance. You went through all the stages of grief back then. “They meant well, I guess that’s what made it even worse than it was. But then I remembered: I died for them, all of them, everyone that needed me to do it, every man, woman, child that would have suffered if Voldemort wasn’t stopped. But coming back? I did that for _me_ and _only_ me. And _then_ I left. Went with Charlie to see the dragons. Took off to travel the world, learned to drive a bike, became stuntbiker Skull de Mort. The purple fire thing came somewhere in between. Didn’t really care that much, to be honest.”

“Of course not,” Viper sneers. “That would require common sense.”

“Boring,” you wave him off. “Nah.”

“For your information, they are called Cloud Flames with the characteristic of Propagation, I assume in your case they are propagating cell-growth and recovery. Other Flame types are Sun, Rain, Storm, Lightning, and the rarest, Sky. Skies have the characteristic of Harmony and will seek to gather a full set of the other Flames around them, forming Guardian bonds with them. At the top of any traditional Mafia Famiglia stands a Sky and his or her Guardians. This information cost you one thousand Euro and will be taken from your bank account.”

“Huh, okay,” you say. “But I don’t _have_ to get a Sky, right? Or join the Mafia, for that matter.”

“You can stay on the periphery, if you prefer, but the only avoid it completely is to die,” Viper tells you matter-of-factly. “Otherwise you will be persecuted by the Mafia’s lawkeepers, the Vindice.”

“Okay, well, dying is gonna be kinda hard…” you mutter. “I just never stay down, you know?”

“I don’t,” Viper answers dryly. “As far as I’m aware, I am not capable of surviving being ‘shish-kebabbed’ as you so aptly put it.”

“Hehehe,” you laugh. “Yeah. That. Anyway. Wanna get drunk? My treat.” Of course, you don’t really get drunk, but it gives you and excuse to act really stupid and hug people when people _think_ you are drunk. And you really want to hug Viper.

Viper appraises you, then shrugs. “Why not. Fine.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viper is so super done with you. But you are awesome! Both of you!

Wanderlust hits you again.

"Vi! Come ooooon!" you whine. "It's gonna be so much fun!"

"No," Viper shoots you down mercilessly. "I will not join a circus with you. There are far more productive and lucrative ways to spend my time."

"Fine," you huff. "What about Transylvania? I've got friends there." You hold up a picture of you and various Vlads. It only shows you though. If you wanted to see vampire friends on photos, you'd need special glasses.

"Transylvania," Viper repeats. "Do your friends happen to be vampires? If so, the answer is _no_."

"They're nice," you say.

"They drink blood."

"So? Some people eat snails! And frogs! Or snakes and spiders. And do you know the kind of stuff they offer at the Leaky Cauldron these days?" You shudder in disgust. "Or what kind of shit goes in potions, both literally and metaphorically? Eww."

"I am not going to Transylvania with you."

"Fine. You choose where we go, then!"

And that is how you two end up on Mafia Land.

 

 

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"I totally forgot we opened a café here," you marvel. "And it's in an epic amusement park, even! This is _neat_!"

"It was the most lucrative location," Viper sniffs. "Ice cream often goes hand in hand with recreation. There is another café open on the main street in the business district, but this one draws far more money."

"Cool!" You finish your Blueberry Dreamboat while Viper slurps his strawberry milk. It's free, seeing as you two are the restaurant owners. Which probably means that Viper eats nowhere else because one, free food, and two, strawberry milk. "So you work on this island?"

"This is merely where the most job opportunities can be found," Viper answers. "Mafia Land also holds the greatest information market in the world. I am a very good information broker and capable of finding the whereabouts of just about anyone."

"With your snotography, right?" you ask, proud of yourself for remembering.

"That is _not_ what it is called," Viper sneers.

"Yeah, whatever," you wave him off. "So people give you money to find other people. Sounds pretty cool."

"It pays well."

"Of course it does." You laugh. "You're the only one who can do it, right? Because you're awesome."

"I am competent." Viper sips the last of his strawberry milk and then gets up. "Come. Time is money."

"It's a vacation," you point out, but jump up eagerly anyway. "The point is to have fun!"

"Money _is_ fun," Viper snipes. "Now. I believe a tour of the island is in order. There are places I recommend you don't go."

"Like what?"

"Like the Triad inhabited areas." Viper gives you a _look_. "You will _behave_ in this place. I will not have you sully my reputation, is that clear?"

"Yeeees," you whine. "No pranking the Triads, got it. They don't know it's me under the helmet anyway! So they'll leave me alone, right?"

"Clouds," Viper says acidly, "Are _rare_. Especially in China because the oppressive nature of the government causes most Clouds to either self-destruct or leave. The structure of most Triad groups isn't much better, therefore holding a Cloud is a status symbol. To a lesser extent this holds true in the rest of the Mafia as well, so if you reveal yourself as a Cloud, an unaffiliated one at that _who has no territory_ , then you _will_ be hunted down."

"No using Cloud Flames, got it." You salute to Viper. "You can count on me!"

"...I shouldn't have brought you here."

"Eh," you shrug. "It's fine! I can wear a disguise, you can put an illusion on me - and I'm okay as long as I hang out with you, right? No one will suspect shit since Mists don't usually get along with Clouds?"

"It's unheard of." Viper sniffs haughtily. "You must be defective."

"Haha! Probably!"  You skip along next to Viper. Mafia Land is pretty interesting, you decide. Violent, too, but that's okay with you. These people aren't innocent after all. It's completely different from Death Eaters targeting muggleborns. People signed up for this.

"This is the black market," Viper points at an assortment of large warehouses. There's a huge ad declaring them to be just that, the black market. "Anything you can't find in the stores, you will find in here, though the prices may be _unreasonable_ and the quality _lacking_. It is however worth a stroll over, one will always find something interesting there. The leftmost warehouse also contains the magical black market."

"Awesome," you breathe. "Let's go in!"

"Later. Save it for a rainy day."

"Okay!"

Viper shows you the beaches, the promenades, and the touristy areas. Derisively, he says, "Of course, these are things you'll find in any tourist town, except there the risk of getting robbed will be far less. I did not pick Mafia Land as our vacation venue to do things we could do elsewhere for much cheaper."

"And also, you burn up in the sun," you guess.

"That is a completely different matter," Viper huffs. "Now follow along. The shops on Main Street are fine, but the real gems you will find tucked away in niches and hidden by illusions. You are fortunate to be here with me."

"I'm always fortunate to have you for a friend!" you answer earnestly, leaving your friend sputtering. "Oh look, what's that?"

Mafia Land, you find out very quickly, has _everything_ , and Viper is utterly awesome. People recognise him and whisper. Occasionally a brave soul steps up to talk to him (and is subsequently shot down because Viper may be one greedy guy, but he does take vacation seriously). It's like he's Kacey Potter in Hogwarts, except far more respected. Makes for a novel change.

"And this place I saved for last," Viper finally declares with the mien of a man walking to his doom. "The junkyard."

"Whoaaaaa," you breathe because. So Much Junk. So Many Bike Parts. So Many Bikes! You're in _heaven_! "You," you say, "Are the bestest friend ever and I love you."

"I can _feel_ your wallet bleeding already," Viper almost-whines. "Because of _junk_."

"This isn't junk!" you declare. "This is heaven. Heaven! What do you say, do you want a flying bike? Because I can fix you one of those and build fun stuff into it!"

"No thanks. A car would be more useful."

"Got it! Ohoho, look at that! There's a whole _yacht_ in here! And a submarine! Did you know there lives a baby sea snake in our beach cave?"

" _What._ "

"With a submarine, we could take her out and babysit while she goes out into the ocean until she's big enough to take care of herself!"

" _I bathed in that cave_."

"Oh don't worry, I told her not to nibble on us, it's cool!"

"Told her- you're a parselmouth?!"

"Uh, yeah? I thought everyone knew that?"

" _No_."

"Huh, that's weird, it was all over the newspapers this one time after Ron gave an interview... of course he kind of hates me because of George and other stuff, so..."

"I have not been in contact with the magical world in a long time," Viper says in a measured tone of voice. "And even if I read the _Daily Prophet_ , I would not believe its shameless rumour-mongering. So no, I was not aware of your linguistic skills."

"Oh. Well. Yeah, I'm a Parseltongue. I hope that's not a problem?" you ask sheepishly.

"Of course not. Now about the sea snake..."

"She's sweet! I'll introduce you!" You pause. "Of course, I don't know if it's really a sea snake... she seems a bit small? And is possibly a mix with an occamy, I'm not sure. I'll have to ask Luna next time she's around."

"You are _infuriating_ , Kacey."

"Ehehehe..." you laugh sheepishly. "Sorry.  But doesn't it look like a nice submarine?"

Viper pinches the bridge of his nose. "I _should not_ have brought you here."

"...I'll take you to my Gringotts Vaults and let you look at the Grimoires? Whoo boy, the Blacks were into some crazy shit..."

Viper pauses. "Grimoires?"

"Yup! From the Potters, the Blacks, and some others. Some people wrote in their will that their shit would go to the one 'that finally offs that crazy snake fucker Voldemort'. Which is me! The one that offed him, I mean, not Voldemort himself. Tom Riddle was Voldemort."

" _Multiple vaults_."

"Yup! I'm filthy rich." You beam at Viper which isn't visible what with the helmet you're wearing but you have high hopes for your body language. "So, deal? You try not to have a heart attack at me buying totally awesome things I really need - like a submarine. Oh, and a zeppelin, and a hot air balloon, thought I don't think I'll find one here, and that yacht, ooohhhh, what is _this_?"

"...I am just going to wait outside. I _cannot watch this_."

"Yup! Have fun!"

 

○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○―ᴖᴗ―□

 

 

Viper only has time for a week of vacation, as busy as they are. It's cool with you, though, you're just really happy to spend time with them at all. Viper is so interesting and cool! Mafia Land is cool, too, and your best friend knows all the best places.

On the fifth day though, something comes up with the restaurant, so since Viper is _right there_ , you get ditched for the prospect of money. "And remember," Viper tells you imperiously. "Stick to the main streets. Actually, avoid the main streets, you couldn't keep a low profile to save your life. Stay in the hotel. Stay in your _room_. Hide in the _bathroom_."

You salute, Viper strides off. A half hour later you're outside because you're hungry and the hotel restaurant's food is not worth the money. You like to think Viper will appreciate you being all thrifty.

So, where to eat? Viper's dragged you to Florean's Ice Palace for every single meal, you should take the opportunity to eat somewhere else. Oh, that place looks good! A tapas bar! Ohhh, and that place has Asian food! And what's this? Italian! Greek! Mongolian! On Mafia Land, you can find _anything_.

You end up eating at McDonald's. (Who would have thought you'd find _that_ on Mafia Land? McDonald's really is omnipresent.)

Happily munching on your fries, you contemplate what to do now when you see _it_. The cutest thing you've _ever_ seen, waving at you with four of eight arms from inside an aquarium with sad, sad eyes. You jump up and run over. "I want the octopus," you declare in Japanese, because the guy manning the counter looks Japanese. If he isn't, things will be awkward.

"Si, si," the vendor answers, opens a latch, grabs the squirming octopus. "Uno oodako, s'il vous plaît, avanti avanti." And he strides over to the chopping block and grabs a giant knife.

You shriek, vault over the counter, grab the octopus from the linguistically confusing vendor, shove a bunch of banknotes in his face, and run away. (You make sure to grab the fries you left on the table. You mustn't waste food!)

"Phew," you breathe three blocks later, and let yourself fall into the first seat you find, which just so happens to be one of the chairs of Florean Fortescue's café on Main Street. "That was close! You alright, buddy?"

The octopus, tiny and cute and purple, stares at you with huge, grateful eyes, all eight arms suckered to your arm. Your heart melts.

"Hi," you greet. "I'm the Great and Immortal Skull de Mort! Wanna be friends?"

The octopus blinks and with a tiny plop, releases one of its arms to shake the finger you hold out.

"Sweet!" You grin which he probably can't see, what with you wearing your helmet. "I'm gonna call you Oodako, that alright with you? It means octopus."

Oodako makes the weirdest _fweep_ noise, it's the most adorable sound you've ever heard. "Aww, you like that name? Great!" Oodako waves three arms and makes another _fweep_ noise, a bit louder this time. He's happy about his name! "My friend, Oodako," you declare, and set him on your helmet so you can eat - the waitress just placed your usual order in front of you. You aren't exactly hungry after eating those fries earlier so most of it you feed to Oodako.

Halfway through the Blueberry Dreamboat, someone sits at your table, looking cool as a cucumber but somehow gives off a murderous aura at the same time. "Sideburns-kun!" you exclaim. "What a surprise! It's been so long!"

Reborn gives you a menacing smile. "Lackey," he says forbodingly. "We did _not_ finish our conversation. Because you _disappeared_."

"It's not disappearing when I tell you where I am," you argue.

"Yes," Reborn says dryly. "The middle of Transylvania? _The top of Mount Everest_?"

"Great view," you inform him. "Have you ever been?"

" _Yes_ ," he grits out.

"You're looking tense, Sideburns!" you observe, then make kitty claws with your biker-gloved hands. "Would you like a massage? Rawr."

" _I will murder you_."

You pout. "That's going to make this friendship a tiny bit awkward, don't you think? Though you probably wouldn't succeed anyway, The Great Skull is just too amazing after all! Speaking of which, I'll give you an autograph. Give me your fedora, I'll sign it." You hold out your hand and wiggle your fingers. "No need to be shy, Sideburns-senpai!"

Reborn stares at you blankly. You may have possibly broken his brain which is awesome.

" _What in the name of all that is valuable do you think you are doing, Skull de Mort?!_ "

Aaaand you got caught by Viper. Crap, you're in trouble. Now is the time to bullshit up a believable excuse! You open your mouth and out comes, "Eheheheh." You've never been good with excuses.

"I leave you alone for _forty-five_ minutes after telling you to _stay in your room_ -"

“Hide in the bathroom, actually-"

"-and I come back to find you in _broad daylight_ eating ice cream with an _octopus_ -"

"His name is Oodako, say hello Oodako-

"-clinging to your head and talking to the _World's Greatest Hitman_. _Explain yourself._ "

You give Viper a beseeching look. "I got hungry."

An Eldritch Abomination forms behind Viper. Hagrid would love it which says a lot about its ugliness.

"I feel so sympathetic right now," Reborn tells Viper solemnly and pulls his gun. "Let me assist you."

"Much appreciated, Skull is supremely hard to kill."

You clap your hands and beam at them. "This is great, you're getting along! Bonding over killing me, that's adorable!"

The Eldritch Abomination doubles in size. The barrel of Reborn's gun begins to glow yellow. Huh, must be that Flame thing... the yellow was Sun, right? It's about the only colour that fits the weather phenomenon. Except for blue and Sky. Or was it blue Rain? Confusing, but not as confusing as purple clouds, haha.

Right, back to the situation, you are about to be brutally murdered by your best friend and the guy that you pranked for over a year. Maybe you should say something dramatic.

You open your mouth. Sirens blare and ruin the moment.

"Not my fault," you say immediately.

"I blame you in any case," Viper snaps back. "There hasn't been an invasion in decades."

Reborn frowns. "Bad timing. I wanted to savour this kill."

"I can wait!" you assure him. You'd pat his shoulder, but the gun is kinda in the way.

"You will. _In the bomb shelter,"_ Viper stresses. "That way. Just follow the people." They turn and stride off.

You make for the opposite direction. A hand clamps down on your shoulder. " _The shelter is that way,_ " Reborn says, his face terrifying.

You flick his hand off of your shoulder. Fuzzy purple sparks fly. "Noted."

Reborn stares at you in disbelief. "Cloud. _You_."

"Me," you answer. You don't really get what the big deal is, but whatever. "See ya." You turn on the spot and disapparate to a deserted alley, unshrink the enchanted backpack you have on you always, and stash Oodako inside. A few switching spells for your clothes and you are no longer Skull de Mort but Kacey Potter, wearing what non-biker clothing you had with you which just so happens to be the skirt of your waitressing uniform, a bikini top, a dragonhide jacket and combat boots. You look bloody amazing what with how fit you keep but you'd really like a shirt. Maybe you should have looked at the checklist Viper gave you when packing. Then again, you doubt your old Auror combat uniform would have been on the checklist.

Ah, whatever. You got arse to kick!

The Triads might be looking for you, but so long as they don't make the connection between Skull and the purple-haired menace they are so fond of hunting everything should be fine.

As Kacey Potter, you are free to be as badass as you wish.

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you suffer from awkwardness and Viper enjoys it far too much. Also, you might possibly have a problem concerning cute fluffy animals.

The people of Mafia Land are gathering at Mafia Land Fort to organise the defence. Non-combatants are headed there, too, since that is where the shelter is located, in the best-defended location. Hence, the streets leading up to there are crowded. You know that Viper will be there, and you also know that if you don't hurry you'll be too late to join them.

It goes without saying that getting there the traditional way will be too slow. Picking up your broom and flying there is also not practicable, you can disillusion yourself but not your broom, the charmwork built into brooms makes it impossible.

However, you have another option. After you left Charlie and the dragons and set out alone into the world for the first time, you came upon a Native American tribe that used magic in ways you'd never known possible. Based on shamanism, they are so very in tune with their own magic, their very _self_ , in a way you, who had never had the time to deal with all that happened to you and how you felt about it and who had never had time to rest and simply _be_ , could only long to be. They were kind to you, and the shamans helped you a great deal. After you saved one of their own from a poisonous snake, they gave you honorary membership in their tribe and taught you their ways. And those ways include turning into your spirit animal from as young as age four.

You once again duck into an alley. Close your eyes, center yourself, reach for that place inside you-

(It's a different way of becoming an animagus. The way Europeans teach it, it's a series of strict steps, a complicated potions regimen, and requires intense study, the whole process clinical. It takes _years_. In contrast, you only took a summer of finding yourself and being _you_. It came naturally.)

A rush of tingles runs through your body. Bones rearrange, limbs shift, your skin stings as the feathers break through. The world grows impossibly large as you shrink in relation to it. It hurts, but the way you feel light and free and unburdened after more than makes up for it. You spread your wings and shoot straight up, joy coursing through every inch of your body. The wind catches under your wings as you leave the shelter of the alley and you fly a looping.

The white-throated needletail, also known as the needle-tailed swift, is an excellent and more importantly _fast_ flyer after all. It spends most of its time in the air. You would, too, but you like people too much to be a bird full-time, also you don't want to live solely off of insects. It's a good thing you can fly as a human, too.

You rise high above Mafia Land and then launch into a steep dive toward the fort. You're there in no time at all - your adoptive tribemates didn't call you Swiftwings for nothing.

Swiftly, you land. Vertically on the wall in a secluded nook, because it's what your short legs were made for. Then you change back because focus isn't easy, your mind is different when you are Swiftwings. It's perhaps the only disadvantage to the way you learned to change - the European way would have allowed you to keep your mind completely human.

You look down into the courtyard. It's chaos, every Mafioso loudly arguing who should lead, what the plan is. There is a security presence on Mafia Land, but they can't seem to be able to organise a proper tactic. Frowning at this, you turn your attention onto the approaching enemies instead.

There's so _many_ of them. They are arriving by helicopters and ship, those ships further loaded with _tanks_ , of all things. All vehicles marked with any one of five different emblems which you take to mean that it is an alliance of five Mafia Famiglias that's attacking the island.

This is going to _suck_ , you can already tell. And you still have no shirt. Which no one will know because you’re wearing your awesome dragonhide jacket but that doesn't change the _fact_ that under it you only have a bikini top. At least it's the kind of bikini one can dive off of a cliff without losing, not to mention it is rather sexy. Doesn't quite match the cute skirt but whatever. You look hot. You're going to loathe every second of this, but you _will_ look good.

You could have transfigured your clothes, but that might have upset the protective spells woven into them. Also, transfigured clothing has the unfortunate habit of reverting at the most inconvenient moments and the last thing you need is a clothing malfunction mid-battle. Oh well, it's not like a skirt is the worst thing you've ever fought in. It provides far more mobility than, say, _school robes_.

The noise in the courtyard very suddenly dies down, replaced by a multitude of hissed whispers. There's man standing tall, an aura of power around him. The men around him exude power as well, but it blends in with the man the surround protectively. _Vongola_ , the people whisper, and then shout it in admiration and beg him to take leadership.

So this is a Sky. Certainly, he is something else.

He lifts his hand and the noise dies instantly. "Snipers and archers, please gather on the walls, my Rain will give further instructions. Giegue Famiglia, please assist in the evacuation of non-combatants. Close combat specialists-" he continues giving instructions, you are rather impressed with his confidence and grasp of the situation.

When instructions have been given, the man pauses. "Our intel tells me that their three largest battleships are loaded with heavy artillery that will allow them to lay waste to the island from a distance. I suggest sending a task force of combat specialists under leadership of Varia leader Tyr. Volunteers please stay, everyone else head to your assigned positions."

The courtyard empties remarkably fast. It's hard to say how many are left by the end since they are all sticking to shadowy corners. Much like you who's watching from a nook way up on the wall. You don't think it's more than a handful of people, though.

Another man takes the floor, the Vongola Sky ceding it to him. This one must be Tyr, the... Varia leader? That's what he was called?

He looks really really mean. He's an albino, skin like alabaster, hair white as snow. His eyes are pale, too, though you can't see that much from the distance. The black armour he wears contrasts against all the white, just like the giant sword strapped to his back. And his presence - the man from before drew it. Tyr _commands_ it.

He marches to the middle of the courtyard, stands there ramrod straight. Turns around slowly, eyes pausing on every single person still present, even you. When he's finished his inventory, he finally speaks. His voice is surprisingly soft, like silk on steel. It sends a shiver down your back. "Assemble."

A moment of quiet, then people appear. There's two of the Vongola Sky's bodyguards - Guardians, you remind yourself - taking position. Serenely, an Asian with a long braid walks up, hands hidden in his red sleeves, _oh crap he's that Triad guy_. There's a flash of Sun-yellow, and then Reborn stands at Tyr's back, fedora pulled low so only smirk and sideburns are visible. Viper appears in vortex of Mist, cloak flaring dramatically around her. You don't miss the way Tyr's eyes soften towards her.

There's a few other people, but none particularly stand out to you, though you don't dismiss them either.

You jump down the four story drop, tuck into a roll, and come to stand right beside your best friend.

You can _feel_ her eyes roll. But she doesn't tell you to go away, doesn't ask what you think you're doing. Instead she shifts so you two present a united front. Merlin, you love Viper so damn much.

Aaaaand you're drawing looks. Triad Guy looks a tiny bit startled before offering you a serene smile and a nod, apparently not mad at all about the numerous times you tricked him into paying your restaurant bill, the other time you lured him into a gay bar, that one time he ended up crossdressing though he did _that_ all on his own, and the memorable occasion where he and his group ran into Reborn while you ate popcorn. Well, if he's cool with that, you can be cool, too, so long as he doesn't _try to put you in chains and drag you back to his country to serve his masters it's not happening arsehole_. Everyone else gives you veiled curious looks. You're pretty sure they all know each other. You're the new one here.

Tyr appraises you with oddly pale red eyes as you stand next to Viper. You know that look, he's assessing your threat level. Or your usefulness, either works. Viper meanwhile is doing that thing to Tyr where you can't see her eyes but know she's skewering someone with them anyway.

Reborn, meanwhile, is staring at your legs.

They _are_ pretty nice legs. All muscly and shit, you keep yourself fit.

Tyr has apparently made up his mind and gives you a nod before addressing the group at large. "We will split up in three teams. I will lead one consisting of my Varia officers."

"I will be working with Acacia," Viper says immediately.

"Ho?" Reborn says, a lazy smirk on his face, his dark eyes on you all soft and full of promise. "I will be joining you and _Acacia_ then." His smooth voice wraps around the name you rarely use anymore.

...you're pretty sure he hasn't made the connection between Skull and you yet. Merlin, that is hilarious. You resist the urge to burst into giggles. Barely.

Viper is shaking next to you.

"I believe I will join as well," Triad Guy says, calm smile on his face. "It has been a while," he continues with a nod to you.

"Very well," Tyr nods, and turns to the remaining men. "You will make up the third team."

"Understood," the Guardian guys nod. The discussion then turns to planning and logistics. The battleships are a ways out at sea, after all. Luckily, helicopters are available to you. You'll be flown out and dropped off. After that, your groups are on their own. Make your own way back.

No problem for you and Viper, you can apparate or fly. Reborn though, and the other guy whose name you found out is Fon, they can't. And Viper is very much against revealing yourselves as witches. It bears risks in the Mafia, to be what you are.

Just like the civilian world has its pocket of magic, namely the Wizarding you hail from, the underworld has its magical subcommunity as well. The problem is, magic users, the _Gifted_ as they are called in the Mafia, are incredibly useful and versatile. In the distant past, Gifted were seen as precious commodities and valuable tools rather than human beings.

Basically, wizards and witches were to the Mafia what house elves were to pureblooded magicals. Servants without rights of their own. Slaves.

That is no longer the case. At some point, a group of escaped Gifted banded together and instead of going into hiding, systematically attacked syndicates that 'owned' more magicals who then joined them. It was a bloody chapter of Mafia history that only ended when the Vindice got involved and decreed that Gifted were humans and thus entitled to human rights, and crimes against them would be punished the same as those against any other human being. Furthermore, the organised enslavement of an entire people was declared unlawful.

It all happened several hundred years ago, but it's still an issue. The magical partition of the Mafia keeps to itself. Viper told you that there are still some syndicates who have no qualms in going after wizards and witches, young ones especially. _Recruitment_ , after all, however violent, is not illegal in this world.

The whole idea makes your skin crawl. You wonder what the Triads would do if they knew you’re a witch in addition to a Cloud. Nothing good.

 _Let them come_ , you think. _I'll show you something_.

"We move now," Tyr announces, and all of you head over to where helicopters are already waiting. You and Viper hang back a moment.

"Why?" Viper asks.

You shrug. "I can either hate what I do or hate myself for not doing it. And I like being able to look into the mirror. You're my friend and I have your back."

Simple as that.

"...when you talk like that, I forget how much of a disaster you are in private."

You beam at the compliment, backhanded though it may be. "I'm _your_ disaster."

Viper snorts, but smooths her features as Tyr approaches. "Viper," he says. "A moment, please."

"Tyr," she answers curtly. "Time is money."

"The enemy has a Gifted one. A fully trained one from one of the big schools. Take care." Tyr frowns. "He's dangerous."

"I see." Viper turns on her heel and makes for the helicopter.

"Huh," you say, seeing as saying nothing would be impolite. "So, yeah, hi. I'm Acacia."

"So I've heard," Tyr returns evenly, giving you a measuring look. "How surprising to see Viper so attached to another."

You beam. "Vi is awesome." Then your smile fades. "Say, about that Gifted - do you have a name or description?"

"No name. He has a brand on his forearm in the shape of a skull with a-"

"Snake protruding from the mouth. I see," you finish quietly.

"You know him?" Tyr asks, sizing you up.

"I know his kind." You frown. A Death Eater in the Mafia. You were aware not all of them were caught, and one fleeing into a muggle-dominated society? No wonder this one slipped through. "Terrorists without a shred of morals. Obsessed with the supremacy of Gifted-kind."

You'll be sticking close to Viper, that's for sure. She doesn't even own a wand anymore, using magic to augment her illusions. Which is badass but won't block an Avada Kedavra or Cruciatus. But that's what you're for, aren't you? You can take a Cruciatus. Even an AK occasionally.

If a curse even gets that close, which it _won't_. You're not the girl way in over her head from back then and you've learned a lot of new tricks.

Someone calls Tyr over, he gives you a nod, and leaves you. You make your way over to the helicopter, eyeing it curiously. You've been on some before, but they didn't look as... mean as this one. Viper's already climbed in, but Fon hasn't and Reborn is nowhere to be seen.

Speaking of Fon, he's walking toward you. He gives you a respectful nod. You return a wary one. This is all kinds of awkward! Also you're all bristly because well. The Triads want you.

"Good evening," Fon greets. "I am called Fon."

"Hi," you say. "I am called Acacia but you can call me Acacia. And - _monkey_."

"Oh, this is Lichi."

You stare at the tiny white monkey with the red face, transfixed by the cuteness sitting on Fon's shoulder. It waves at you. It is hypnotising you.

"Are you quite all right, Miss Acacia?" Fon asks.

" _Cute_ ," you whisper. Lichi chatters. Oh Merlin.

"I was wondering if you would have time for a talk after the battle," Fon mentions.

"Hah?" you asked, distracted. Lichi nods encouragingly.

No! You mustn't cheat on Oodako! Nothing is cuter than your tiny little octopus! Not even a fluffy monkey. Whose face is red and those eyes look kind of devilish oh who are you kidding that is the cutest monkey you've ever seen, but only the second-cutest creature in the world. The cutest is in your shrunken backpack, safe and sound. Oodako is your shield against evil manipulative utterly fucking adorable monkeys making puppy eyes while his master gives you that serene smile that makes you want to introduce your fist to his face, but he'll probably keep smiling even then.

"Hah," you snort and walk past Fon, conveniently taking your eyes off of the dangerous monkey. "Nah."

You're about to climb into the helicopter when Reborn reappears. You'd suspect apparition, but it's too silent. He just suddenly leans there as you're about to climb in. "Need a hand?" he croons, voice all dark and promising.

"Err," you say because this is a different kind of awkward and this _cannot be happening_ Reborn can't possibly be flirting with you - actually he can, he's kind of got a reputation as a playboy and you're damn bloody hot. But you're also Skull and live for trolling him and that means Reborn wants to kill you. He calls you _lackey_.

Reborn snatches your hand in a smooth move while your mind goes in circles. Bends down just the slightest bit, just hovering outside your personal space bubble. "Would you like to sit together, Acacia? Get to _know_ each other…"

You burst out laughing and flee into the helicopter, only catching a glimpse of his shocked face. You throw yourself into the seat next to Viper who's shaking with silent laughter, the little shit. "Kill me now," you moan before looking out the window at Reborn's stock-still form and losing it again. "This is horrible," you gasp.

"Horribly amusing," Viper comments, smirking. You shoot her a dirty look, but the moment your eyes meet you burst out giggling again.

You both shut up when Reborn enters the helicopter followed by Fon and Lichi. Lichi who's giving you a dirty look while cracking his knuckles, apparently terribly insulted. You blanch. That monkey is dangerous. "I want out of this helicopter, I can fly on my own," you hiss at Viper who's enjoying this far too much.

"Too late," she informs you smugly.

Fon and Reborn take the seats across from you two. Before he sits, Reborn bends down to you, eyes gleaming. "I enjoy a challenge, Acacia," he murmurs. "I know something worthwhile when I see it."

.

.

.

Nope, composure is done for.

"Pffffwhahahaha oh my god haha Vi did you hear fuck but Vi did you _hear_ hahaha Reborn oh crap this is ahahaha!"

"You are _far_ too immature."

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which your every intention gets derailed and something may be wrong with Reborn's brain.

 

Current situation: You are sitting in a helicopter and thinking of all the reasons why it would be bad if Reborn found out you're actually Skull.

Your mind flies back to the most notable one. You suppress hysterical laughter.

_Your alert wards ping. Squeaking, you fall out of your bed, tangled in your blanket. You were dreaming about aliens and for a moment you thought you were being abducted. Which would be kind of awesome actually, but also kind of bad._

_Back to topic, your wards! Ahh! They are set to alert you when people you've tagged with a tracker are near. There's only two of those! Has Sideburns caught up with you again? Or the Triads? That one guy sure is persistent!_

_You really should get out of there. A swipe of your hand and your belongings are in your hands. You jump out of the window. Ugh, it's cold. This is because you're still in your pajamas. Crap, you knew you were forgetting something! Ah, but there's no time to change!_

_Stupid Kacey! Are you a witch or not?_

_Focus, center - and you fly up in bird form, landing vertically on the wall. It gives you a great view of-_

_Error, please restart brain. You nearly fall off the roof as you go human again in shock. There is Triad guy. In drag. He sure can rock a dress, though. But_ why _?_

 _Oh, yeah. The inn houses women only, for some reason. The old woman who runs it has_ opinions _on men._

 _Your ward pings again. Which,_ oh crap _, means Reborn is coming for Skull. You suppress a curse and wish you had your invisibility cloak, alas you left it with Teddy. Disillusionment will have to do._

_Aaand there he is. Walking up to the inn. Pauses at seeing Fon._

_"Good evening, Miss," he says, suave as fuck._

_Evening your ass, it's 3 am, do these idiots have nothing better oohhhh holy shit he's flirting with Fon._

_"Good evening, Reborn," Fon greets back with his decidedly_ male _voice. Reborn rears back like a very startled and mortified cat before adopting a terrifyingly neutral expression._

 _"Lackey is going to_ pay _for this," he says calmly. "Have a nice night, if you ever talk about this you are a dead man in women's clothing, Fon."_

Your mind returns to the present.

Whatever! It's gonna be fine if Reborn _never_ finds out that Fon was there because of Acacia who happens to be Skull whom Reborn was looking for. Whom Reborn has the hots for, apparently.

...if he ever finds out you're dead, regardless of immortality .

 

○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○―ᴖᴗ―□

 

You've never been very fond of muggle ways of flying. It just misses, well, the magic. Which, duh. It's the _muggle_ way.

You had a point to this train of thought, you're sure of it. It was a really philosophic and poetic one, too. And now you're stuck on how muggles aren't magic which is, like, the first thing Hagrid told you right after _happy birthday, you're a witch._

Anyway, you don't like helicopters. They're loud and you have zilch control over what the pilot does, and there's no wind under your wings, no lightness and joy in your body. Also, there's fuck all you can do about _enemy helicopters and battleships shooting at you_. You're stuck in a flying box of metal and magic doesn't pass through walls, at least not the kind of magic that _might_ be of help in this situation. Also, you don't want to fry the technology in this thing.

At least you've gotten over the horrifying realisation that _Reborn_ is _flirting_ with you. Well, he isn't doing it right now. He's hanging upside down out of a hatch on some sort of high-tech rope ladder and taking shots at enemy helicopters. You really don't know why he insists on being upside down though. Maybe he likes the dramatics. Or he wants to impress you, Merlin forbid. Considering you've done _far more_ risky stunts on brooms, motorcycles, surfboards, and most notable your own two feet? Yeah, he should try something else. (His fedora stay on the entire time, _that_ fact does impress you though.)

But Viper is amazing! She's currently weaving illusions while muttering to herself, making sure your helicopter makes it to one of the three enormous battleships, the right-most one to be precise. Which is now in sight and holy crap that's one big ship. And it has big cannon things mounted atop it. _Lots_ of armed people guarding them, yeah your group isn't exactly subtle in its approach.

...there's a pretty good chance you'll reveal your magical abilities in this operation. Well... not exactly a problem as long as Viper isn't exposed as well. You're Kacey Potter, you'll end up using magic at some point anyway. You're not too worried about it.

Anyone wants a piece of you? Just let them _try_. You'll be ready.

Aaand they're shooting the cannons at you. Your pilot does some fancy maneuvering and if your team was made up from lesser people, you'd have been thrown around something awful. As it is, you barely budge. (Though you do have to steady Viper a little. She's somewhat fit, but not exactly athletically trained.)

The voice of the pilot comes through the headphones you're all wearing. "Can't get closer. I'm dropping you off here. Give 'em hell."

...the big battleship is still quite a bit away. However, there are a number of smaller ones right below. _Hmm_.

Fon gets up and jumps out of the helicopter, no hesitation at all. You shrug, exchange a look with Viper who jerks her chin for you to go first. Okay then. All of you jumping out of a helicpoter from this height means you're going to get separated, but Viper can find you anyway. Grinning in anticipation, you put on your old Quidditch goggles which you found in your jacket. Oh, this is _nostalgic._

Unlike Fon, you climb down the rope ladder first, just to gauge wind and appreciate the sheer height you’re in. It's a tiny bit awkward because Reborn is still there, shooting you a smirk while also shooting at helicopters with his gun, apparently your laughing at his flirting attempts has not discouraged him at all. "Chaos, Acacia," you read from his lips, the wind ripping away the sound. He holds out a hand. "May I have this jump?"

"Ahahaha hell no!" you laugh at him, horrified, and jump off. Real laughter escapes your lips then as you tumble through the air, cold wind tearing at you. You spread your arms, just to feel _more_. It's _exhilarating_ , you feel so _alive_ as you dive hundreds of feet down, bullets whipping past you. You tuck your arms in, dive headfirst down, minimising wind resistance, going faster faster _faster_. A crossbow bolt grazes your leg, but moments later it's already regenerated. Your dragonhide jacket is bullet proof, and your quidditch goggles are enchanted to keep bludgers from jellifying your head, so you're safe from headshot problems.

The end of your fall approaches, and you angle yourself so you're aimed at one of the smaller battleships. It comes closer quickly, the folks on it firing everything they have at you, not as it does them much good. You thrust your hands out, a blast of pure magic abruptly blasting you over them and turning you from head-first to feet-first, angling your body just right for you to slide over the roof of the command bridge, good thing your boots are enchanted for any eventuality. You land on the deck and roll over your shoulder. Come to your feet almost immediately after and cartwheel twice before ending in a front flip, momentum finally ridden out.

Hell _yes,_ fucking _nailed_ it. (Self-appreciation is so important.)

You blasted yourself right on the other side of the ship, leaving the armed guards on the deck scrambling on the other side of the command bridge. You don't stick around to wait for them. These are small fry, the ship meant to transport ground troops to the island. Someone else will deal with them. You have a mission.

Fun fact. Your boots aren't just normal enchanted combat boots. They are seven-league boots, making the wearer's steps bridge far more distance than logically possible. And seeing as you're rather at the rear end of the ship - you have its entire length to accelerate. Activating the runes on the boots, you do a few short stretches, and just as the guards round the corner, you begin running, mowing them over like bowling pins. Use another as a springboard, jump impossibly far onto the next ship and just keep running. This ship is bigger, and alarms are blaring loudly. They're shooting at you from the command bridge, from the front, from behind. You really want to get out of this without using magic, so you rip a door of its hinges and flee into a corridor. You have absolutely no idea where you're going. The first door you kick in leads into a mess hall. You barrel over chairs and tables, your boots not made for manoeuvring around furniture. The room behind it is a large kitchen. A bright moment strikes you, and you seal the door behind you. That tiny bit of magic should go unnoticed, right?

Further exits lead into a huge walk-in freezer and a pantry, and that's it. Well. Unfortunate, that.

You blast a hole right through a wall and make yourself your own exit. As luck will have it, you land in a machine room. Mechanics scream at the explosion. You sever a bunch of pipes, and steam begins filling up the room, giving you cover. In this kind of environment, your seven-league-boots do more harm than good, so you deactivate them and run to the best of your own ability. The next hole you blast into a wall opens the view of water. You've breached the outer wall of the ship, thankfully above water level.

There's enough steam cover for your animagus transformation to go unnoticed. You soar out of the hole in the wall, quickly rise higher, far above the ships. There's commotions on several of them - Fon standing in a blaze of red fire, taking people out left and right. A few ships away, people fighting amongst themselves while Eldritch abominations take the ship apart completely unnoticed by them. And men abandoning a ship close to your target, jumping off in terror, shots of yellow Flame blinking up every so often.

But the battleship itself is still intact and unbreached, and they're aiming the cannons at the island now. So you fly, and you fly _fast_. Over Fon, Viper, then over Reborn, diving right at the battleship. Just a tiny bit of sight cover, and you transform. From your bracelet, you summon your battle staff - about as long as a hiking stick, but made from black metal, a purple gemstone mounted at the top in a delicate contraption of lavender-coloured diamond. It's great for channelling large amounts of magic.

It's also super great for beating people up. And there are _tons_ of people in your way right now.

You jump right into the fray.

 

○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○―ᴖᴗ―□ ○―ᴖᴗ―□

 

Two minutes in and you've completely lost track of, well, everything. You're being swarmed by men and if it weren't for your Cloud strength, this would look much different. Luckily, Viper's been coaching you in Flame use.

Three minutes in and streams of yellow shoot past you and down your every opponent. "Chaos, Acacia," says Reborn, smirking. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Ahahaha, yeah, sure, whatever you say," you answer. "I had it covered."

"I have no doubt," Reborn answers easily, distractedly shooting around you two.

"Well... good," you reply for lack of anything else to say.

A loud clank sounds from behind you. The cannon fires. Oh shit.

Viper will kill you if the ice parlour gets damaged.

"Merlin's saggy balls," you curse and raise your staff. "Fuck it. _Accio cannonball_!" The gemstone on your staff glows, and a white arc of magic flies after the cannonball. Which then returns and crashes right into the cannon that fired it.

Screams sound from the guarding men, and almost immediately every weapon on the ship is levelled at you. "Get our Gifted!" someone screams.

"Can't! He's on the island!"

"Attack her body, it's weak!"

"You guys do realise I'm right here and can hear you?" you inquire curiously. "Just lay your weapons down, we can talk about this."

"Fire!"

Okay, so they don't want to talk it out. " _Expelliarmus!_ "

The magic blasts out of your staff and into the men. Their weapons are ripped from their hands, flying towards you. A twitch of your free hand directs them to the side. The men themselves are thrown back like bowling pins. But it's not enough. You take a step forward, change your grip on the staff and swing it like a golf club. " _Incarcerous_!"

A wand would have spewed out ropes to bind one person. Your staff conjures iron chains that tie the entire guard force up. " _Duro_!" turns the chains into a solid cage.

"That should do it," you muse, leaning on your staff.

There's a shit ton of more cannons though, and you really should take care of that.

Reborn makes a strangled noise behind you. "Yes?" you ask with a pleasant smile, turning around.

Uh-oh.

Your heart plummets as you see the dawning realisation in his eyes.

Reborn knows Skull is Gifted because you were dumb enough to disapparate right in front of him. He also knows Skull is a Cloud. And you've just gone and revealed Acacia as Gifted and your Cloudiness is pretty fucking obvious what with your colouring.

" _You_ ," Reborn grits out. " _Skull_."

"Ahaha I have no idea what you're talking about please don't kill me!" you yelp.

He gives you an incredulous look, shifts his glare to the small army of armed men you just took out. "Are you serious?!"

"I'm Kacey, actually," you say on reflex. "Erm."

He raises a gun at you. "I _flirted_ with you."

"Yeah, that was funny," you reply. "You may have been able to tell, what with me laughing my arse off."

" _You_ are _Skull de Mort_."

"Yes? You said that before. Reborn, are you okay?" You step forward and feel his forehead. "You seem a little flushed."

"What the hell," Reborn says.

"You're taking this surprisingly well," you muse. "I thought you'd kill me for the thing with Fon- oh no I shouldn't have said that."

" _Indeed_ ," Reborn intones, his voice echoing as if it were coming straight from hell.

"I'm sorry," you say. Then pause. "Actually, no. I'm not sorry, it was hilarious and completely your own fault. Also, you had it coming for stalking me all the time. Not to mention you were an enormous _git_ to me."

"You were in disguise," he defends.

"And _why_ should that matter, huh?" You raise an eyebrow at him. "You were an arse. I retaliated. End of story."

Unexpectedly, he smirks and leans closer. You're suddenly _very_ aware how close you're standing to him. "You're right, _Acacia_. I apologise. Let me make it up to you. Dinner on me, just us two."

"Ahahaha oh god you're not joking."

"I would _never_." You'd like to wipe that infernal smirk off his face. What, exactly, is his game now?!

"Mou, what is going on here?" Viper sweeps in, Fon and Lichi following close behind. "Why are the cannons still standing?"

"Because Reborn decided to be an arse and he's probably going to kill me but he's also asking me out on dates and it's really really freaking me out," you inform Viper, and you just know that she's far too amused at all of this.

"Miss Acacia, my Triad would gladly offer you sanctuary if you were in peril," Fon speaks up, serene smile firmly on his face, though his eyes dart at the chained guards with some confusion. He's shirtless now. Lichi sits on his head, preening his hair. _Damn_.

"Fuck no," you answer immediately. And then, because all of them _suck_ , you raise your staff at the cannons. " _Bombarda!_ "

_Kaboom._

"Mission accomplished," you comment idly, vanishing shrapnel before it hits you.

"Overkill," Wet-blanket Viper retorts.

The looks on the others' faces amuse you greatly. Apparently, Fon had no idea you were a witch. You give him a saucy smirk. Reborn, too, for good measure.

You focus on Viper. "The Death Eater's on the island. I'm going back. Want a ride?" You hold out a hand.

"Appreciated." Viper takes the hand you offer.

"How will you get there?" Fon asks, sounding confused.

"Teleportation, obviously," Reborn informs him in a know-it-all tone, and places his hand on your joint hands.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Catching a ride." He has the nerve to wink at you. You just blew up a significant part of a giant battle ship, and he's _still_ flirting. What is _wrong_ with him?!

"May I join as well?" Fon asks, and grabs on as well.

Viper looks like she very much wants to punch the entitled bastards. And also like she would like to inform them that the normal witch can only side-along apparate one person, stronger ones two so they can just stay on the ship by themselves. She holds back, though.

"Eh, why not," you answer Fon. "Okay, this is how it works. I count to three, and then you shout 'Teleport!' as loud as you can. Helps focus intent, in case you're wondering. Got it? Awesome. One - Two - Three!"

"Teleport!" Fon and Reborn shout. You burst out laughing.

"Merlin you actually said it!" you giggle. Viper pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation, and also to hide her own grin.

Reborn raises his gun. "Lackey..." he growls threateningly.

"Ahaha time to scram!" You turn on your heel, and the world squeezes down around you. And then you're back on the walls of the fort, the men and monkey of your group stumbling around disorientedly. "All limbs still attached? Yes? Great! Congratulations on your first successful teleportation and thank you for traveling with Acacia Airways."

"Enough chit-chat." Viper decrees. "And invasion is going on. We have work to do."

Spoilsport.

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arse is kicked. You are actually pretty good at it!   
> Also, Reborn gets a sandwich.

 Fighting off an invasion reminds you of the good ol' days. And by that, you mean it bloody _sucks_. You're going to have nightmares about the war tonight, you just know it.

The island is being overrun with attackers, and the four of you got separated pretty quickly. And by _that_ you mean you fucked out of there, like, immediately because Reborn was looking murderous again, probably because of the teleport thing. Which was hilarious and you will never ever regret it.

Viper is still near though, what with her locating skills she found you easily. The two of you are fighting in a team, Viper supporting you from the back and you decimating at the front lines. You've got your staff in one hand and your old wand in the other, and you feel like Gandalf, beating people up and casting magic at the same time. All you're missing is a long beard, a cloak, and an awesome hat.

You didn't particularly enjoy Auror training, but you can't deny that it had its uses. Without it, you wouldn't know the shield spells to keep off bullets, or the spell to lock firing mechanisms. And you _really_ need those spells here, because the moment people notice you're Gifted, they concentrate their fire on you. Or swarm you with close-combat specialists because they think you don't know how to use your body. They think wrong, and your battle staff is seeing a lot of action today.

Between the two of you, Viper and you clear street after street. You aren't sure of the passage of time. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, you've kind of lost focus. There are screams, there is blood, there are bodies, and in your mind the images overlay with scenes from the war and its aftermath. Opponents staring at you with red eyes, ginger hair on a corpse, snakes creeping out where there are none - oh wait, that's one of Viper's illusions.

You turn a corner and stand in front of at least two dozen people with swords, daggers, knives or any other kind of blade. They run at you immediately. " _Avis!_ " you shout, pointing your staff and conjuring a flock of vultures. _"Oppugno_!" The men shout in panic as they are attacked by the large birds, their view of you completely obscured. Shooting the birds does nothing, they are magical constructs and unless their wings or heads are cut off, they'll keep attacking. You really aren't pulling your punches anymore.

The knife squad was blocking the way to the amusement park in which complete chaos reigns. Confusing doesn't even begin to describe the situation. People hiding in booths and taking pot shots, others jumping out and launching suprise attacks. Fighters on the rollercoaster rides, the guy that sells cotton candy has gone ballistic and is wrapping people up in giant sugary cocoons, and what you thought were statues were apparently only disguised street artists, and now they've formed a militia with impressive efficiency, incidentally using Floréan's Ice Parlour as their home base, assisted by the waitressing staff who're actually bloody good at fighting.

They were hired by Viper, of _course_ they're capable.

There's an explosion on ten o' clock, and there's no way in hell you wouldn't recognise a _bombarda_ 's sound and the odd ring of silence it leaves for exactly one and a half seconds. Seems you've found your Death Eater! Great! _Not_.

But Tyr specifically pointed out that the enemy wizard came from 'one of the big schools', and apparently that's a big deal. So you're going to have to suck it up and deal with that. Death Eaters are kind of your responsibility anyway. Or at least, you _feel_ responsible. It's your hero complex thing.

So you take off towards the explosion like the protagonist of a horror movie heading for the weird noises. Good thing you're pretty much immortal! And you have kick-ass back-up. Probably. Viper's hard to notice in battle with all her Mist floating around. But you see a few Eldritch monsters loitering, so Viper's definitely in the area _somewhere_.

There's another explosion, but also something else. By now, you've gotten a feel for most Flame types, especially since coming to Mafia Land. And _that_ doesn't feel like any of those. It's... if Flames were music, it would be a siren song, enticing and beautiful, but also dark and with the sweet promise of death. It _draws_ you. Which, huh, that must be a Sky Flame.

Yep. When you reach the scene, a plaza set between three rollercoaster rides, you see the Vongola Sky holding a scepter wreathed in orange Flames, and on his forehead blooms another, almost like a crown. Well, actually quite different from a crown. It's more like his head is a Bunsen burner. A part of you wonders how his hair isn't catching on fire.

He isn't on his own, either. There's a muscle-packed man at his back, black hair held back by sunglasses resting on his head. He has a very impressive beard. His sideburns go all the way to his chin, forming a chinstrap, and it's so neatly trimmed and nice-looking you are kind of jealous. Maybe you can grow a beard using Cloud Flames.

Speaking of Cloud Flames, the guy's a Cloud. That's pretty cool, you've never met another one! Maybe you can grab some tea later when this is over!

But for now you have a job to do, and it's standing on the framework of the green rollercoaster, wreathed in black robes and wearing an all-too familiar skull mask, an almost skeletal hand holding a wand out. "Filthy muggles!" the Death Eater hisses. The Vongola Sky stares him down with a dignity that is breathtaking, especially considering he's standing many feet below the wizard.

"Would you not rather use your Gift for the good of the people, like they were meant to?" he asks. "Why do you do this? It's meaningless." He twitches a finger, pointing it at the bodies on the ground. _Avada Kedavra_ victims, no doubt about it.

"Good of the people?" the Death Eater shrieks. "Muggle filth like you, thinking you're so high and mighty?! Enslaving your betters! You will be crawling at the feet of our magical brothers and sisters like the filthy worms you are! _Crucio_!" The malevolently red blast of magic is deflected by the scepter, and wow! Maybe you aren't needed here! This dude can deflect Unforgivables with his Sky Flames. "Oh, so you like fire?" the Death Eater snarls. "Then have some! _Fiendfyre_!"

Okay, so you are actually needed. The enormous fire Hydra that bursts from the guy's wand goes straight for the Vongola guy, who looks like he's going to fight it, except then his eyes widen and he grabs his Cloud and shoves them both out of the way, probably having sensed the immense destructive power that Fiendfyre holds.

You should really do something now, before the Hydra multiplies. Good thing that after the battle of Hogwarts, you looked up ways how to stop Fiendfyre.

Fiendfyre is fuelled by hatred, anger, and rage. There's three ways to stop it without using advanced potions: Either the caster cancels it, dies, or an equally strong force of _goodness_ is thrown at it.

" _Expecto patronum!_ " you shout, lifting your staff as you finally enter this battlefield. Prongs bursts from your staff, much larger than he was when you were young, the silver now having a lavender glow to it. He radiates gentle warmth, happiness, and peace, and when his antlers ram into the hydra, it shrieks infernally and disintegrates. "Hi," you say, and wave to the Death Eater as Prongs gives you a nod and dissipates. "You are hereby under arrest for multiple counts of murder, manslaughter, torture, conspiracy, use of Unforgivable Curses, Death Eatering, and, I dunno, littering, I mean look at all the corpses. Is what I'd say if I hadn't quit my job. You have the right to shut the hell up."

" _Traitor_!" he screeches at you. "Traitor to our kind and traitor to the Dark Lord! Filthy mudblood! Your blood will soak the ground!"

"Merlin's balls, get with the times, you idiot. Riddle's dead and blood supremacy bullshit is _illegal,_ and soaking the ground is impossible, I don't have _that_ much blood."

" _Crucio_!"

You roll your eyes. You forgot how uniform conversations with Death Eaters are. Talk to one, you've talked to them all. You summon a corpse in the path of the curse and your brain makes a very inappropriate joke about meat shields. "Want a hug?" you ask the Death Eater, and banish the dead body at him. He shrieks and blows it up. Eww.

You point your staff at him and he begins to laugh. That is concerning. Bad guys laugh when they have an ace up their sleeve and are about to play it.

" _Imperio_!"

The spell hits you from behind. The voice is shrill and feminine and you've heard it before. Oh great, there’s another one!

"Now then, now that you are under our control, you shall fight for the right side..." Death Eater dude crows smugly. "Share with us your name, _mudblood_."

The witch behind you cackles. "Yes, tell us your filthy mudblood name! Oh, you stupid muggle," she presumably addresses the Vongola folks, "If you attack us, I'll tell the bitch to kill herself. Hey, you! Point your wand at yourself! And tell me your name! Kneel while you're at it!"

You smile, turn on your heel. " _Expelliarmus!_ " you roar, and that is an answer all on its own, and Pansy Parkinson's eyes widen in horrified realisation before she's thrown back, right into the Eldritch Abomination forming behind her. You catch her wand from the air, then turn and smile at the Death Eater, who you're now pretty sure is Parkinson senior. Not that you particularly care.

Parkinson's magic is going haywire, his robes fluttering about him. The frame of the rollercoaster groans. " _You!_ " he hisses. _"YOU!_ "

"Want an autograph?" you ask, smiling beatifically.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_ he screams.

Uninspired choice, honestly. And stupid, you've never died from that curse before. You merely lean to the side and let it whiz past you. For the next moments, Parkinson throws curse after curse at you, if there were music, the lightshow wouldn't be out of place in a club! Mafia clubs probably have lethal lightshows, too.

Parkinson turns to smoke and flies at you in that bastardised version of apparition Death Eaters use. The same one that Hermione reverse-engineered so the Aurors could use it too. The Aurors that _you_ trained, however reluctantly.

So you turn to smoke, too, and the Death Eater's face when you collide is really amusing. "Ha, I win, my smoke is prettier," you say triumphantly, because it is. Yours is purple. His is drab and grey. "Also, _stupefy_. Huh, that was anticlimatic."

"Mou, stop complaining," Viper says, stepping out of Mist-space or whatever. "Actually, just don't talk at all."

"That was quite... _magnicifent_ , Acacia." Reborn appears, looking cool as fuck as he shoots people left and right because you and the Death Eaters and the Vongola dudes weren't actually the only ones in the plaza. Which you didn't really notice because Viper, and apparently Reborn, were taking care of them. People having your back, that’s nice.

"Not really?" you answer. "Basic spell work, actually. 'Cept for the patronus, but I've been using that one since I was thirteen, and you don't know what I'm talking about so I'll just... stop. Yeah." You turn to the Vongola folks. "You guys all good? Got hit by anything? I know some counter curses and stuff."

"We are unhurt. Thank you for your assisstance, Miss... Acacia, was it?" the Vongola Sky answers politely. His forehead is still on fire.

"Your forehead is on fire," you inform him. "Is that intentional? Because if not, you might want to do something about that."

Viper sighs deeply. The Vongola Sky looks somewhat amused as he answers, "That is quite all right, thank you for your concern." The Flame on his head does go out, though.

"Cool," you say. The Cloud is glaring at you. "Hi," you say. "Can you teach me how to Cloud? I don't think I'm doing it right."

"I give up," Viper says despairingly.

Reborn breaks into coughs. "You all right?" you ask him dubiously.

"Acacia," he croons, and his voice is all dark and warm, just like his eyes that are staring into yours. He's leaning down, you smell coffee and gun smoke. "You are doing _just fine_. Would you have dinner with me?"

"Heck no," you answer. You reach into the pocket of your jacket. "You can have this sandwich, though. It's only a little squished." You hold the item in front of his face so you don't have to look into his stupidly pretty eyes anymore. He opens his mouth and you shove the sandwich in.

"Mmmfph!" he says.

And _there's_ the murder face again, only a slight bit diminished by the sandwich sticking out of his mouth.

"Right, uh, I'll just go! It was nice, fighting’s mostly over, I had fun, see you later Vi, 'kay bye!" You grab the unconscious Parkinson, disapparate and grab Pansy, and then disappear from Mafia Land altogether, directly to your home where you glue your prisoners together because that's the worst punishment you can think of, being stuck to Pansy Parkinson for an indefinite amount of time, then stick a message to Pansy’s forehead, and then stick portkeys on them. Let the British Ministry deal with them, you're in no mood.

What a crazy day it was.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which monkeys are evil and sandwiches are great. Also, you get a new project!

You are back on Mafia Land less than two hours later. Villa de Mort was too silent for you. You released adorable little Oodako in the cave, he was a little parched after you stuffed him in your bag for so long, and the tiny octopus vanished underwater. You weren't too worried though, the cave exit is warded so the baby sea snake can't swim out into the dangerous ocean, and it'll work for Oodako too.

Then you checked on the various creatures that live in your garden, but they are all fairly self-sufficient and completely fine. The demiguise is a mother hen of epic proportions, so there was no way it could have been otherwise.

After that, you showered. And then... you had nothing to do. Didn't feel like flying or going for a drive, didn't feel like doing anything, and it was all so quiet-

You know yourself pretty well. Once you start brooding, you don't stop for a while, and you'll end up being miserable for _weeks_.

So yeah. Stocked up on sandwiches just in case you see Reborn again, and then apparated back to Mafia Land. Clean-up has already started, construction crews are bustling about, no one's paying you any attention. Just another face in the crowd. It may have something to do with the Notice-Me-Not charm you've cast on yourself. And the fact that you've propagated your hair to waist-length, transfigured it black and your eyes green so you look like good old Kacey Potter, harmless and unassuming. Except for the British sabre at your waist, but it'll help you blend into the Mafia Land crowd. Everyone carries weapons here.

You're looking for Viper, though given how stealthy your friend is, it's more likely they'll find you than the other way around, plus Vi has the advantage of their snotomancy ability. Nonetheless, after you left so abruptly, you can't expect Viper to look for you, and besides, you might get lucky.

You figure the fort is a good place to start, so you make your way there. Jackpot, there's a whole crowd here, and the Vongola Sky is holding a speech. About unity and triumph achieved through working together, alliances... he's a pretty inspiring talker, you've got to admit. Much better than you anyway.

Viper is at the edge of the crowd, listening politely. You slip between the people and sidle up to - him. Viper switched genders in the time you were gone.

"Why are you back?" Viper demands softly.

"House was too big," you answer tersely. "And there's still a day of vacation left."

"I see." Viper nods. "I recommend not spending it on Mafia Land. There were cameras in the amusement park. The entire battle was filmed."

You sigh. "Ugh. That's a little inconvenient."

"A little?" Viper makes a disparaging noise. "The standard of magic in the Mafia is _vastly_ different from what _you_ are used to. By this evening, every notable Family will have seen the video and taken note of your face and _will_ attempt to recruit or kill you. They will look through every camera recording in search of your face."

"It was just basic spells," you protest, frowning.

"You turned to smoke, used apparition, blew up half a battle ship, threw off mind control like it was nothing, summoned a patronus that destroyed _Fiendfyre_ that Don Vongola _fled_ from, and single-handedly won a battle against _two_ fully trained Gifted that killed a fair number of trained fighters, Don Vongola's Lightning Guardian among them. And _then_ you told them it was nothing special, just _basic spellwork_." Viper's voice is dry as the desert. "In the two hours you've been gone, I've been questioned about you by no fewer than seventeen people, and been offered _exorbitant_ amounts of money to reveal your wherabouts." You are pretty sure Viper is glaring at you.

"Huh," you say. "That's inconvenient. But really, I did nothing special."

"Mou, by your standards, maybe." Viper's mouth curls. "Like I said. The Mafia has _much_ lower standards concerning magic, and your display was called _magnificent_ by _Reborn_ of all people, and even if he _was_ flirting, her never gives praise where it is unwarranted. Like it or not - you don't have to worry about just the Triads anymore. Now it's _everyone_."

"Except you," you point out.

"Except me," Viper agrees.

"Wonderful," you sigh. "Well, I'll just tell them no."

"Kacey," Viper says exasperatedly. " _No_ is not an option they will accept. This society, conflict-prone thought it may be, agrees on the fact that the Gifted are meant to serve. Some are kind about it, some are not, but all will enforce their demands. Back in Britain, all those warnings that if muggles found out about magic, they would make us do everything for them? _This_ is what they meant, and why the Statute of Secrecy came about as early as it did, in a time when witches and wizards could have easily won a war against muggles if it weren't for the Mafia and _their_ powers."

You sigh. Yeah, you know about it. Every Auror does. Every government official that has to deal with muggles does. Binns has a lecture on it in the History of Magic NEWT course, rarely visited as it is. Magical parents tell their children stories of kids being stolen because they made _friends_ with The Wrong Sort. Salazar Slytherin was so extremely biased against muggles because of the Mafia.

It's not exactly a secret. Omertá and the Statute of Secrecy kind of cancel each other out, apparently. It's weird.

And when you went to travel, everyone and their mother saw fit to warn you of the Mafia, as if your briefing when you became an Auror weren't enough. Some of the stuff you were told you didn't know, some was vastly inaccurate, and some of it useful. And whenever you went to a new magical community, you were informed of the local dangers. Even got into a few scuffles, like you did in China.

"You can be certain they will be looking into your background right now," Viper continues on. "Of course, they won't find a thing." It is said with dark satisfaction.

"I really don't deserve your friendship," you say quietly.

"Mou, shut up. Consider it payback for saving my life."

You chuckle. "Okay. Thank you. How did you manage it anyway? I'm famous. My name gets mentioned in the same breath as the likes of Merlin, Morgana, and Dumbledore. Apparently I'm the strongest witch in the world. Also, there's that Woman-Who-Conquered crap. And there aren't that many kick-ass British witches named Acacia."

"I am the greatest illusionist in the world." Stated like a fact. Which it is. Viper _is_ the best.

"Thank you, then." You grin. "I'll treat you to ice cream next time."

"Mou, I will hold you to that. Now go. I am busy and I doubt you want your current appearance connected to your previous one so soon which _will_ happen if you hang around me."

"Eh," you shrug. "It's not that important. But if you're busy anyway... I think I'll go travelling again for a while. See some new places. Maybe join another circus! I'll let you know."

"Fine."

"Fine," you repeat. And then, because the conversation seems to be over, slip away.

 

 

 

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Mafia Land is busy and noisy. The noise of construction is omnipresent.

You probably should have left right away, but you're still leery of being on your own so soon after the battle. When you angst, you _Angst_.

There really isn't anything for you to do, unless you want to start fixing buildings with a few swipes of your wand - or the sabre at your waist, it works as a focus, too - and draw more attention to yourself. Most shops are closed, just some weapon stores are still open, and you aren't interested in them.

But maybe - there's a place you haven't visited so far, and that's the magical black market. According to Viper, it's where magical items that found their way from the magical world to the Mafia one are pawned off. And it's got muggle-repellent charms on it, you won't have to deal with forcible recruiting attempts there. So you change the direction of your steps and make your way there.

Two streets further and someone falls in step with you. "Good evening, Miss Acacia," Fon says. He found a shirt somewhere, and you're oddly disappointed.

"How did you recognise me?" you ask, somewhat disinterested. It's not that important. You didn't exactly put in an effort into your disguise. Is it really a disguise when you look like you did a few years ago, before your Flames bled into your colouring?

"You walk the same. And you look as you did in China," Fon answers helpfully. Lichi chatters something, and Fon brushes his fingers over the little monkey who's giving you puppy eyes. You want to coo at the cuteness.

_Bad Kacey! Don't do it! Think of Oodako!_

"Huh, that makes sense." You raise an eyebrow at him. A _single_ eyebrow. It's the coolest thing you can do with your face, and it took long hours of practice before the mirror. "So, what do you want?"

"Ahh," Fon smiles serenely, folding his fingers in front of him. "Would you believe me if I told you I merely wished to enquire if you were well, after the battle?"

"Nope. I don't think so. Still trying to recruit me?" You return his serene smile. Yours shows teeth. Lichi immediately bares his at you in return. Decidedly less cute than before, which is good.

"Ah, due to recent revelations, I am going to have to rethink previous recruitment strategies," Fon answers apologetically. "We weren't aware of your... status."

"Why should me being Gifted matter?" you snort, a hint of bitterness in your voice. "Still the same person. Still a," you sharpen your smile. "Still a Cloud."

"Peace, Miss Acacia." Fon raises his empty hands. "I'm not here to fight." And his smile sharpens as yours did. Muscles flex under his shirt. "Though I would not be opposed, either."

You roll your eyes. "Just say what you're here to say and then leave me alone. I'm not feeling sociable right now."

"Very well." His smile is a tad disappointed. "My Triad names would like to offer you a place among our number. You have greatly impressed our leader, and since your first appearance have only continued to exceed the wildest imaginations. You are resourceful, intelligent, strong, and skilled. It would be an honour to welcome you in our number, and you would want for nothing. And allegiance to our group would go a long way to seeing you protected."

He sure talks a lot.

"Of course, you'll need some time to think it over," Fon continues. "And you are welcome to visit our headquarters anytime to see what you would be joining." He gives you a winning smile. His smile is a winner, too. His monkey is not.

"And if I say no?" you ask offhandedly.

"Then I wouldn't be surprised." Again with the sharp smile, eyes eager for a fight. "Clouds are rarely convinced by mere _words_."

He isn't wrong. But he's making assumptions and that kind of thing has pissed you off since you were placed with the Dursleys.

"So what _do_ you think might convince me?" You keep smiling. It makes your face hurt.

Fon's smile looks more genuine than ever, on the other hand. "Power," he says. "I saw you on the battleship, and I saw you fight those rogue Gifted."

You laugh into his face. It's not a nice kind of laugh. _There is only power and those too afraid to use it_ , a hissing voice echoes in your mind, and you remember thinking _What about family, what about friends, what about love and happiness_ back then, and you think it now as well, but with a great deal more bitterness.

"Wrong answer," you say. "And there's no need to think it over. I reject your offer."

Fon blinks, but a moment later is unflappable again. "Please. Take a little time. We can talk again. Surely, you see that with the attention of the entirety of the Mafia centered on you, you are in need of protection?"

"Let them come," you growl, a hand caressing the sabre at your waist.

"Come again?" Fon asks incredulously. "Surely you cannot mean to go on _unaffiliated_?"

"Watch me." You wish there were a mirror around. Your smile must be frightening, for Fon's has slipped completely.

"By tomorrow they will be hunting you down!" he emphasizes. "The _entire_ Mafia."

"Oh gee," you snort. "An entire society hunting my arse because they think I'm dangerous. I _wonder_ what that feels like."

Fon looks at you as if you've lost your mind. You haven't. But you _are_ a Gryffindor.

And you're over this conversation. "Are you going to sod off if I ask nicely?" you ask.

Fon shakes his head regretfully. "I have my orders."

You nod. Your hand drifts from your sabre to the pockets of your jacket. "Here, have a sandwich." And then, with the impossible speed of years-long Seeking experience, you stuff a sandwich in his mouth.

A very sleeping potion laced sandwich. Fon drops like a stone.

Lichi goes for your throat.

 

 

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It's a good thing you regenerate. Merlin's balls, that monkey is the devil. On the plus side, you heavily doubt that after your undignified flight from an angry pint-sized monkey anyone would make the connection between you and the witch that everyone's looking for. You make it to the magical black market without further trouble.

And now you know why Viper said to save it for a rainy day. It's sad. There's a wide variety of things, that's true, and some of it actually catches your attention. However, the quality is seriously low, a lot of it is broken, and you have a feeling the vendors don't actually know what they are selling in a lot of cases. And to top it off, the atmosphere is tense and unhappy, the people obviously poor. It reminds you of what Knockturn Alley became after the post-war purges flushed the illegal businesses out. Except even then, it wasn't as dreary as this place.

You don't stay long. Only long enough to buy most of the moving figurines a heavily pregnant woman who looks like she needs the money is selling. She looks at you so gratefully, tears are in her eyes.

These people are _your kind_. Brothers and sisters in magic. And you can't think of anything to help them. It's galling, and you don't like to think you are fleeing from their reality, but that's exactly what you do.

Of course, you wouldn't be you if you didn't run into some trouble anyway. It's not _your_ fault, this time anyway. See, you got hungry. So you went to a bakery that looked as if it was opened. It wasn't, but it smelled _so good_ so you walked up to it anyway, and this was when you heard a girl scream.

You _are_ a Gryffindor. Chivalry is your middle name.

The scream came from inside, so you spell the door open and hurry inside, vault over the counter, and enter the kitchen. "Let me go!" the girls shouts from what you think is the pantry. A man laughs roughly.

"Sorry honey," but he doesn't sound sorry at all. "But Gifted are in high demand right now. Don't worry, we'll take care of you."

You step into the doorway. "Didn't you hear her?" you snarl quietly. "She said no."

Guns are pointed at you. A girl that can't be older than twelve is held harshly by her teal-coloured hair, tears staining her face. The man attempting to wrestle her into submission is thrice as tall as her and three times as wide, made from pure muscle. There's two others like him in the room. "You Gifted too? Yeah? You're coming with us. Hands up." The one closest to you makes to grab you. Your sabre springs in your hand.

"One step further," you warn quietly. "This is your only warning. Let the girl go."

They laugh roughly. "This one's got fire!"

" _Chiroptera mucosis!_ " The bat-bogey hex bursts from your sabre. The man that tried to grab you shrieks as the fluttery fellows burst from his nostrils. You refuse to think about who you learnt this spell from - your very first broken heart when you were barely fifteen and figured out that Ginny would never _officially_ be with you because girls don't marry girls in Magical Britain, and you refused to be her dirty secret - and cast your next spell. _"Relashio!_ " hits its target, and the man is thrown off the girl, who scrambles back from him.

The click of a gun sounds, and you react just like Auror training conditioned you to. _"Armalock_!" locks the gun's firing mechanism. _"Diffindo!_ ", so much more effective when cast with a blade, slices through the gun's barrel and renders the entire weapon unusable. And " _Melofors!_ " encases the man's head in a pumpkin.

You switch out the sabre for your wand. A few swipes, and the men are all unconscious and tied together.

You're feeling really uncharitable right now. Being confronted with the treatment of your fellow magicals will do that. And this kidnapping attempt? " _Gifted are in high demand right now?"_ they said, and this is your fault, isn't it. You and the Parkinsons' caused a right stir and now everyone wants a Gifted one in their ranks.

 _This will not stand_.

"Hey," you say to the girl. "Are you hurt?" She shakes her head, her eyes wide on your face. Oh. You can feel the Flames going haywire in you, and that probably means your disguise is gone. Whatever. "What's your name?" you ask gently.

"Cecile," she whispers. "Thank you."

You do your best to smile at her. "Would you mind bringing me some paper and a pen, Cecile?"

 

 

 

 

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Ten minutes later, you're done. " _Portus_ ," you cast callously on the rope binding the attackers. They appear in a whirl of light. You imagine the reactions when will they appear out of thin air right above the Fort's courtyard, tied together, riddled with a number of spells - you've made an example out of them with all the Marauder creativity you could find in yourself. And then, when the watchers have gotten over that... they'll see the scarlet red envelope on one man's flower-sprouting chest.

And then your voice echoes over Mafia Land, angry and unforgiving and scary as fuck. " _From now on, the Gifted are under my protection,_ " your Howler says. " _Lay a hand on them and you will answer to Acacia, the Immortal Sorceress. This is your only warning."_

Viper is probably rolling their eyes at you somewhere. But hey, the stuntman business taught you a thing or two about dramatics, and _this_ calls for them bigtime. Better you make yourself the target rather than those that can't defend themselves. Going after kids, how _despicable_.

"That was _amazing_!" Cecile gushes. "I've never seen it used like that! Can you teach me?"

You blink. Oh Merlin. Hero worship. "Err, sure? But don't they teach you at school..."

Your eyes widen in realisation. School. _School_. To you, it's never been a question - magic kids get a letter when they're eleven, and then they got to magic school. You've never even considered that in the Mafia, there _might not be a magic school_.

"There's no school, is there?" you asks wryly.

Cecile shakes her head. "You aren't from here, Miss Acacia?"

"No, not really." You groan. "So. No magic school. How do you learn magic?"

Cecile shrugs. "Parents. Friends. The community is pretty tight, at least here on Mafia Land."

"Okay," you sigh. "I'll teach you. And anyone else who wants to learn. We'll need a place to train, though. And I can't be here all the time. Weekly lessons should be possible? Ah sod it, how many of you are there?"

"You'd do that?" Cecile's eyes are wide. "I, uhm, yeah! I'll tell everyone! There's a sublevel under the market, we could use that, oh my god this is _amazing_ , I mean, no one from outside ever _cares_ about us-" she continues to chatter until your stomach growls.

"Erm," you say.

"You can stay for dinner!" Cecile grabs your hand and drags you to a staircase. "Maman made a bunch, and we've even got dessert. Papa makes the best Flan! I love Flan. Oh, here's a picture of Papa! Our family's had this bakery for forty years, since grand-père built it. We're all Gifted, so our cooking is a lot better when we put our all into making it, but of course you knew that-"

You didn't, but can't find it in you to interrupt Cecile when she's so happily rambling about.

Oh man. You've really gotten yourself in trouble this time, haven't you?

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You like to get things done while motivation runs high. You motivation these days runs high indeed. Viper is, once again, super done with you, and decides to do something about it.

"One hour," Viper says accusingly. "You were out of my sight for _one hour_."

"Ahem." You shift awkwardly.

"And in _one hour_ ,” Viper takes a deep furious breath, “You painted an even bigger target on yourself by all but _challenging the entire Mafia_! If you'd _just_ stayed away and under the radar, they'd have forgotten about you eventually. But _then_ you have to send those three in _that state_ \- elephant ears and bat bogeys, for goodness' sake - and aim a Howler at the whole island! What is even going _on_ in your brain?!"

"Ahem."

"I advise you to leave the island and stay away from the Mafia for the rest of your life. They _might_ forget about you in about ten years." Viper stomps his foot. Oh boy, he's really mad.

"I kinda agreed to give the folks here some magic lessons?" you ask more than state. "'cause, they've got no school! And those three were going to kidnap Cecile, and she's _twelve_ and that's just not right! And then they wanted to kidnap me too and I kicked their collective arses and then I was a bit angry. Okay, a _lot_ angry. So I sent the Howler. The Gifted can't even defend themselves, and because of what I did, they've got people hunting them, I can't just stand by when it's _my fault_."

"It's not your fault," Viper snorts. "It's the way the world works. It was that way before you came, and it will be the same way when you leave."

"Then the world needs to change," you snap. "I won't accept it. Those are my people, and they're being treated like third-class citizens just because they were born with magic! That's not okay with me, especially when I think about how I grew up."

Viper groans. "The _entire_ Mafia, Kacey," he points out. "You went and declared yourself protector of the Gifted to the _entire_ Mafia. What kind of _idiot_ -"

"Gryffindor."

"Whatever! And you realise committing to teaching those people means you're now tied to Mafia Land?" Viper face-palms. "My God, Kacey, you could have been so much smarter about this."

"Gryffindor." You shrug. "And maybe you're right, maybe this is all a terrible idea, but. Don't you understand? _I can't stand by_. There are - there are lines. This isn't about doing something because I have a hero complex or because I'm pissed at the situation, it's about being able to live with myself, and hell if this gets me killed, then at least _I tried_." You flail a bit. Talking's not really your thing. Inspirational speeches are what people like Dumbledore and Hermione do. You're just _you_.

"And about being tied down... I have an idea."

"Oh _no_ ," Viper says and backs off. " _Oh no_. Not an idea. I will bankrupt you, I mean it. Spare me your ideas."

"It's a good one!" You beam at your best friend winningly. "Hear me out." You spread your arms in order to emphasize the sheer _amazingness_ of your genius.

"Stop making that face. It precedes _bad_ things." Viper sounds so done.

You laugh. A bit of simple light manipulation, and you're drawing a rainbow into the air. "Behold my idea..." you announce. "I feel like there should be a drum roll here..." You look at Viper meaningfully.

"Not in your life and not for the entire contents of your various bank accounts and vaults will I be caught up in your crazy," Viper flatly.

"Spoilsport." You pout. "Here's my idea..." You make jazz hands. Viper looks two seconds away from murdering you. "School De Mort!"

Viper kicks your shin.

 

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Your first lesson is going to be in a week. It gives you some time to get some stuff done. Sheets of paper line the bulletin board in the office Viper insisted you get. "First thing we need is a location," you state. "Right, Oodako?"

Oodako waves from his spot in the aquarium. You've installed a pipe system all over Villa de Mort so he can go wherever he wants. It connects to the cave, too, so the sea snake has access as well. This is a good thing because Viper's taken a liking to it and since named it Fantasma. Also, you've been talked into teaching them Parseltongue. Well, why not. A little bonding time is nice.

"Location..." you lean back in your insanely comfortable throne. It's a Black family heirloom.

Black family heirloom.

_Black family heirloom._

"Eureka!" you shout and jump up, doing a hero pose. Oodako mimics you enthusiastically. "Black family inheritance!"

"Did you say inheritance?" Viper magically appears. By _magically_ you don't mean apparition, you mean the mysterious happenings that cannot be explained using reality-appliable scientific or magitheoretical concepts of any kind. In other words, it's a complete mystery how Viper does it.

It usually involves key words like _stock market, investment strategy,_ and apparently, _inheritance_.

"I conveniently own a private island!" you cheer. "I completely forgot about it!"

"... _I will not be sucked into your_ _crazy,_ " Viper chants under her breath. " _I will not be sucked into your crazy. I will not be how the hell do you forget an entire island."_

"I dunno. I forgot how I forgot." You stare off into space. "I need to write to Madam Longbottom and ask for a Remembrall. She knows where to get them. She sent one to Neville in first year, boy did that kick off some crazy shit. Like, half of the crap I got into that year is indirectly her fault. If my life were a literary work, that Remembrall would totally be a MacGuffin. I wonder what happened to it." You snap back to attention. "So wanna go check out my island with me?"

" _No!_ "

 

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"How did this happen," Viper demands dully as you two stand on your very own private island. "I said no. I know I said no."

"Don't question these things!" You skip ahead. "Oh man, this is pretty great. Come on, let's check out the castle!"

"Castle," Viper mutters as they (gender neutral as of ten minutes ago) stomp after you sullenly. "You own a _castle._ On an _island_. Which you _also_ own."

"Pretty cool, huh?" You spread your arms as you trudge over a hill. "Lookie here! There it is!"

"It's a ruin."

You beam. "It has character!"

"It's rotting away."

"More character!"

"Unliveable."

"Adventure!"

"It looks haunted."

"More adventure!"

"...you want to house children in there."

"It's perfect!" you declare gleefully. "And so long as it isn't housing a basilisk in its pipeworks like Hogwarts did, I shall deem it adequate."

"... _Hogwarts. Houses. A basilisk?!"_

"Well, not anymore." You wave distractedly, strolling up to the castle ruin. You envision how it will soon look. How it will be filled with laughing children, eager to learn magic. "I killed it when I was twelve."

"...there are things I never wanted to know about the school I studied at for _seven_ years. That was one of them. _And how did you kill a basilisk."_

"Oh, funny story, that. Involved a phoenix, the sorting hat, a damsel in distress and a nefarious plot, also a sword and lots of Gryffindor courage."

"I don't want to know anymore," Viper immediately decides. "Mou, this will take work and money."

"Hmm..." you muse, plotting.

"And that's just the building. What about _that_?" Viper swipes their arms, indicating _everything else_ about the island. Namely, the dense and foreboding forest that no one has tended to in decades. And this is a magical island. Which makes the forest magical as well. Fun things happen if magical forests are left alone.

"Well..." you say. "Forbidden Forests are educational."

Viper looks murderous again, but takes a deep breath. "And let's not talk about the most _pressing_ fact."

"Hm?" you ask.

" _The entire island is flying what the ever-loving hell._ "

"Oh, that." You shrug. "It's a Floating Island, of course. See, those trees are Cloud Pines, they start levitating after reaching a certain age, at which point they'll also have an extensive network of roots dug deep into the ground, meaning the ground they're growing on rises with them. See their net-shaped leaves? They filter stuff from the air with it and then transfer it into the ground, storing it in these fluffy crystal structures, making the underside of the island look like a cloud. Pretty awesome, huh?"

"You own a flying island." Viper's voice is flat. "I stand on a flying island."

"Fun anecdote, Atlantis didn't actually sink, they just planted a lot of trees they thought were pretty, and then it turns out those were Cloud Pines. Sadly, Atlantis had no wards to keep breathable air in, not to mention large-scale temperature management, so they all had to evacuate... the city is probably still floating around somewhere, it was unplottable and they never found it again..." Your voice trails off. "Isn't that amazing? An entire magical city, just flying around miles and miles above the ground?"

"Is it full of treasure?" Viper asks, distinctly unimpressed. No sense for romance, that's just sad.

"Probably?" You shrug. "But anyway! _This_ island had temperature and oxygen management wards. So I declare it livable. C'mon! There's gotta be a control room with a Sink Stone here somewhere. They probably built the castle over it..."

"Sink Stone," Viper repeats flatly. "Let me guess... it's responsible for sinking the island by making it heavier."

"Right you are! Just gotta channel magic into it... a Cloud Pine conglomerate will automatically create one at the very center - occasionally they need to sink since getting water when above cloud level is hard, you know? And wizards figured out how to manipulate those and create control rooms... wonder where the wards gather the energy from, it's not like they can access ley lines this high up... maybe the sunlight?" you mutter to yourself. "Might have to get Bill on the job, but he'd give his left kidney to see this place..."

"...and how do you know so much about these... _Floating Islands_?"

"This dude that lives in Siberia has a Cloud Pine farm, sells and rents out floating habitats in all sizes. Like, from one-tree ships you can set your magical tent on, with a single ward bubble around, to fifty-tree zeppelin things. Full islands like this are pretty rare, though. Figures the Blacks would have one and just forget about it, haha." You hung around that guy for a while. Crotchety old man that he was, he put you to good work, you learned a thing or two.

The magical world has so many wonders. It amazes you how you can find the most amazing things in the middle of nowhere.

"I've decided," you declare. "I will build a school for magic on this island I conveniently own, and I will take any student who wishes to come."

 

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Schools need teachers. You know this, of course. You're just one person, you have absolutely no intention of being a teacher for the rest of your life, so you need others to do it for you. And they need to be capable and have the right temper, and must be willing to do something as risky as establishing a magic school for Mafia kids. Not to mention they must be okay with dealing with the Mafia itself. Not exactly easy to find people like that, but... you have a few friends across the world. Might take you a bit to track them all down, though.

You figure you'll just solve the living situation first. That includes hiring a bunch of curse breakers to take a look at the wards and the castle. Bill is pretty happy about it - working a desk job for Gringotts is getting on his nerves, but it's not like he can just take off for a few weeks to larger curse breaking projects - he's got a little daughter running around and another on the way, he can't leave his family alone for that long. But since portkey travel to-and-fro Cloud Pine Island is completely possible, Bill can still be home at the end of the day. And since he's a dab hand at Black family wards already - this isn't the first job he's done for you, and you've happily let him read all books on wards you found in the library - the risk is pretty much minimal.

That's one problem taken care of. Next one is in the works.

"Again, why am I here? _How_ am I here?" Viper is entirely unappreciative. "And _where are we_?"

"Kacey! Merlin's balls, didn't know you were coming!" Charlie Weasley's grinning like a loon before he pounces and sweeps you up in a bear hug. You laugh.

"'Sup, Charlie! This is my awesome friend Viper! Viper, this is Charlie, he's a dragon handler. And we're in the Romanian dragon reserve. Thought you'd like to see some dragons!" You grin at Viper. Your friend's got a soft spot for creatures. It's adorable. Reminds you of Hagrid.

"A pleasure, I'm sure," Viper greets.

"Likewise! How'd you two meet?" Charlie's grinning from ear to ear.

"Vi was making sure I wasn't Riddle because my secret identity's name rhymes with Voldemort, and I was exibiting suspicious behaviour," you sum the whole thing up. "Ended up opening an ice cream business together and now we're both filthy rich. It's pretty awesome!"

"...a vastly undetailed account of happenings," Viper criticises.

"Eh, it's Kace," Charlie waves them off. "Sounds legit. Want a tour?"

"It's free!" you tempt. Viper throws you a baleful look but concedes.

 

 

 

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"...and that is how you feed a baby dragon," Charlie concludes proudly.

Viper is looking really happy, feeding large pieces of meat to a tiny Ironbelly that was kicked from the nest by his mother for some reason. You, in turn, are happy they are happy.

"Say, Charlie," you then speak up quietly. "There's a tense atmosphere around. Old Yuri is even brooding."

Old Yuri being one of the founders of the reserve, and the senior dragon handler. The guy's amazing.

"Ah..." Charlie sighs. "There's a... situation."

You give him a questioning look. "Go on..."

"There's a bit of a... global wand shortage," Charlie begins.

You blink. "The heck?"

Charlie shrugs. "Wizarding population is growing rapidly. In Britain especially, with the end of the war and the elimination of blood prejudice, more children are born. Meaning, more wands are needed. And wands generally have one of three possible cores - unicorn hair, phoenix feather, and dragon heartstring. Unfortunately, all of these creatures are rare. Meaning, the number of fabricated wands is dependent on the number of available creatures."

You frown. "There's tons of other possible magical foci they could use aside from wands. Do you know how many foci I have? I met this guy while travelling-"

"Not the point, Kace," Charlie interrupts. "Look, dragon hearts are huge, and around two-hundred wands can be made from just one. So to keep up with the rising demand -"

"They want to kill dragons?" you ask, horrified. "Are they _mad_?"

"We've been ordered to pick out the old ones that aren't useful anymore," Charlie says, rage in his voice. "The ones that can't reproduce anymore. The people in charge are sending an execution squad in two days."

You know he and the dragon handlers will go to war over their dragons. They won't let a single one come to harm.

"...what if your dragons suddenly got hit by wanderlust and flew away?" you ask offhandedly.

"Where would a dragon hide?" Charlie asks bitterly. "They are _big_. Except for the Hawaiian Dwarfbreeds."

You smirk. "Funny that you should ask..."

"No," Viper says.

"What?" you ask innocently.

" _No_. I will not help you smuggle a dozen dragons onto your goddamn island. Not in your lifetime."

 

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"Mou, I am not talking to you, Acacia James Potter."

Ouch. Your blasted middle name was brought out. What your Dad was thinking, giving you _James_ as a middle name, you'll never know.

"Oh come on!" you whine. "It wasn't thaaaat bad. And all went fine! See, it was neither the first nor the only dragons I've ever stolen or smuggled. I’m an expert!"

" _Not. Talking. To. You._ Not only did I agree to smuggle a dozen dragons - _I did it for free._ " Viper's voice is absolutely frigid. "It has been _four days_ since you came up with this ridiculous school scheme of yours."

"Well, I like to get things done while motivation runs high! And look what we accomplished - the island's gonna be curse-free in two weeks! Charlie and friends are combing the forest for dangerous creatures! And we got dragons for island security! Things are going great! We can even relocate some of the creatures in the basement garden to the island. Neville can have a look at the plant life. And Bill knows someone who works in Magitecture so the castle’s gonna be repaired and we’re even gonna have some more buildings, we could have the island habitable in just a few months!" You beam at Viper. "Come on, doesn't it feel great to have done something good?"

"It feels terrible to have done it _for free_ ," Viper answers dully.

"I'll pay you?" you offer.

"I will not accept pay outside of a working contract," Viper snaps. "Now leave me alone. I have profit to make."

"...how do I get you to talk to me again?" you ask.

"Suffer."

"Uh... okay? How, exactly?" you ask, a bit unsure. But this is your best friend, and you don't like that they are mad at you. You may have overdone it with your shenanigans this time. You're not sorry, it was funny and Gryffindor as hell, and you did a _good thing_. But, _maybe_ you shouldn't have gotten Viper caught up in it. "I'll do anything," you promise.

"Anything?" Viper asks.

"Anything, I swear on my magic, so mote it be, Scout's honour," you nod seriously. "Pinkie swear!" You hold out your pinkie.

"No," Viper snaps. "I'm not doing that."

Spoilsport. Viper can be such a sourpuss sometimes.

"Anything..." Viper muses darkly. "I am sure I can think of something suitably torturous."

Oh crap.

 

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Viper is vindictive, holy hopping hippogriffs.

Now here you are, sitting in a café in the middle of Mafia Land, in full view of everyone. Oh boy, that is not very fun, and you hate to be at the center of attention. You are completely undisguised, everyone knows you're the crazy witch that declared protection of all Gifted. So far, Kacey vs. Mafia is going well, there've been no more kidnapping attempts - they're just waiting for your next move while making their own in the shadows. Already anti-apparition wards have been installed on Mafia Land which doesn't bother you seeing as you can just apparate close-by and then fly in in bird form, no worries there. The only real inconvenience is being unable to apparate out of uncomfortable situations, but hey - you're Acacia Potter, you can tough it out.

So yeah. Back to topic. You're sitting in a café being stared at. This, however, is not what Viper ordered you to suffer through. Oh no. It's just the beginning.

Reborn sits down in front of you. "Chaos, Acacia," he drawls, tipping his fedora to you. If he wanted to surprise you, he'll be disappointed. Sitting around until he showed up was your whole plan. Arse sure took his time.

"Why hello, Sideburns." You force a smile that's probably really awkward-looking. God. You are _suffering_ already.

He chuckles lowly. The sound is enticing. How's he doing that? Why is it attractive? He's an arse! "How is life as a person of interest treating you?" he asks.

"Same old, same old," you answer blandly. Since you sat down two hours ago, there've been four rather uninspired assassination attempts, yay. "What brings you here? _Would you like a sandwich?_ "

"Oh, I merely heard my _dear friend_ was in town, and was hoping she'd join me for a little outing of sorts." He smirks, leans back in his chair. The chair is made from hot pink plastic - the café's made some very dubious furniture choices - but he still manages to look elegant. It is really unfair.

"Like a date," you surmise, dead inside.

"If you would like it to be?" Reborn snatches your hand and presses a kiss to it. You attempt to push your fingers into his eyes but alas, your arms aren't that long.

"Sure thing," you grit out, mentally cursing Viper in your head. Merlin's balls, your best friend is _vindictive_.

Reborn blinks. "Come again?"

"A date. With _you_. Sounds _fun_ ," you force out, your hand cradling into a fist. Seeing as said fist is still in Reborn's face vicinity, he sees fit to cradle it in his own. Blessed with long and elegant fingers, your own fist is safely encased, thus preserving the handsomeness of his face.

"You don't sound particularly enthused, my dear," he drawls with a raised eyebrow.

"One, do _not_ call me that again, _ever_." It was what Dumbledore usually addressed you with when placating you. You didn't see it for what it was back then. For good or worse, Reborn's tone is completely different from Dumbledore's though, not that the enticing croon makes anything easier in any way.

"As you wish, _bellissima._ " He smirks at you, a finger caressing your fist. No, you are _not_ flattered, being called beautiful, even if the Italian does sound nice. Considering you’re wearing the ugliest outfit you could find, it is fairly obvious he’s blatantly lying to you.

"And two, I am _only_ agreeing to this because Viper's decided a date with you is a good way to make me suffer. Just so you know."

Maybe he'll be insulted and leave? Please! Any god that's listening!

"I must thank Viper, then," he murmurs before he stands and tugs you up to stand as well. He holds out his arm. "Shall we, my lady?"

"Nooooo..." you whine. Someone in the street takes a shot at you, Reborn casually deals with it. Which, _goddammit_ _Kacey_ , isn't attractive in the least.

You take his thrice-damned arm. Maybe you can squeeze it so hard it breaks.

He's doing something with Sun Flames, so that doesn't work out for you. "Where are we going," you ask listlessly.

"How do you feel about ping-pong, _bellissima_?" Reborn asks.

And yeah, that was about the last suggestion you ever expected.

 

 

 


	11. In which there are Wrackspurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your date is not a date, and you’re a Gryffindor being Slytherin by pretending to be a Ravenclaw in order to appear Hufflepuff. Kacey vs. Mafia has entered a new phase, and the battle shall be fought with ping-pong.

 

 

You have never played ping-pong in your life, and you tell Reborn so. If anything, this seems to delight him, and he promises to _teach you everything_. His infernal smirk does not inspire confidence.

"Delightful," you grit out.

"I am that," Reborn agrees without an ounce of shame. It's kind of impressive, really. In a horrifying way.

 _One date. Viper's forgiveness. Endure, Kace, it's just ping-pong,_ you tell yourself as Reborn steers you to the ping-pong place. You suspect you're going to be thoroughly humiliated in the near future. Reborn's sure to excel at this ping-pong stuff considering he was the one who brought it up; and while you have amazing, like, god-level hand-eye coordination, you doubt it'll be enough to last against the World's Greatest Hitman. Unless you cheat, of course. Just because you have to be on this date, doesn't mean you have to be a _good_ date.

So you two enter the ping-pong hall.

And you discover that Reborn isn't prepared to be a good date either. Which makes way too much sense, considering the shit you pulled on him in the recent past. You've never been so close to regretting your life choices. You don't actually regret them where Reborn is concerned, though. He's just _so much fun_ to mess with!

The hall is filled with people, and they've all been waiting for you, and there's seven Skies among them, led by a tall elderly woman with a small tattoo on her face. "Chaos, Donna Vongola," Reborn greets her nonchalantly. "How surprising to see you here."

"I do enjoy a good game of ping-pong," the woman replies, and her voice is devoid of the warmth Reborn's seems to always carry. Daniela surveys you with a disdainful expression. "This is the girl that's been causing such a ruckus? Doesn't look like much, does she." Titters and chuckles in her entourage. She's not even talking to you, she's talking _about_ you.

Sodding hell, Kacey vs. Mafia's just entered another round.

But you are Acacia bloody Potter and you are no ignorant child anymore. You know exactly what's happening here - they want to cow you, prune you down to size, bully you, humiliate you; it's fifth year all over again. But what they don't know is that you've been through this shit already, multiple times in fact; after the war you weren't the hero to _everyone_. You know how this goes. And another thing they don't know is that your youthful appearance - you look eighteen-ish at best - does not match your actual age of almost twenty-five; they also think, since you're from a civilian background, that you must've had a sheltered civilian childhood - after all, if you're as young as you look, you can't possibly have taken part in the blood war. If they're actually aware of the full extent of the blood war, which you heavily doubt. Some of them probably don't know about it at all.

So yeah, you know the game. One thing Daniela was right about, though, you really don't look like much today. In preparation of your _date (Ew!)_ , you took an hour to search your closet for the most appalling clothes you own, in this case an oversized Chudley Cannons shirt the shade of which clashes horribly with your cropped-short Potter-messy hair, and a hideously frumpy librarian skirt Hermione asked you to take hostage so she wouldn't wear it anymore, especially not on dates with Ron. Ratty trainers once belonging to Dudley complete the ensemble that is suspiciously bulky in places because of the vast amount of sandwiches you're carrying. (Anyone else would've thrown those clothes away, but you're a hoarder; and you've never once thrown clothes or food for that matter away unless they were completely ruined, not after having so few things growing up.) The only nice thing about your appearance is a lovely pair of radish earrings Luna gifted you with, merrily dangling from your ears.

But it doesn't _matter_ what you look like, or what Daniela di Vongola calls you - it's designed to make you feel like _less_. All of them _saw_ the video of your battle, they know how dangerous you can be - or think they do, after all, you barely reached into your bag of tricks during that battle. They're doing this because they're scared, and they would like to feel powerful; also they must think they can solve the problem that is you right here.

Oh boy, are they in for a treat.

Because absolutely _none_ of their tactics are going to work. The thing with encounters like this is that your counterparts only ever have as much power as you give them.

You appraise the present people, The Skies are without exception over the age of forty, though the Vongola woman is the eldest and most intimidating by far. They've brought Guardians with them, two each as far as you can tell, also all tall and intimidating; but not a Cloud among them. And then there are some men and women in the background that you're certain are Gifted. Some of them probably recruited from magical society - the big Mafia Families wouldn't settle for the barely educated and untrained Gifted raised within the Mafia, you'd wager.

"Answer when spoken to!" Daniela di Vongola snaps at you, rather unpleasantly pulling you from your musings. Bollocks, you missed the entire conversation. Eh, whatever, you doubt it had any relevant content anyway.

Daniela is obviously Cloud-baiting you - the term for setting off a Cloud by triggering their supposed natural instincts - and you _are_ bristling inside. The whole situation, the crowd, the condescension, the obviously dangerous men and women, the goddamn _Skies_ \- oh yeah, this whole thing is a damn Cloud bait.

However, you also have damn good control over yourself - after the war, it took quite a bit until you couldn't take it anymore and your social life imploded rather spectacularly.

And the most important thing to remember here is this: _They want a reaction_. That's all. Any kind of reaction. Get angry - you give them power. Paddle back  - you give them power. That's all situations like this really boil down to.

What you need here is an armour. An impenetrable political armour.

"Oh my," you say absently. "That is quite an infestation of Wrackspurts you have." And you smile airily at her left ear.

Her face. _Her face_.

It's a good thing you're channelling your inner Luna, otherwise you'd have broken down laughing at the look on her face. The other Skies don't look any better.

Reborn is giving you a wary look.

"Wrackspurts?" Donna Vongola asks, looking uneasy. Of _course_ , she has no clue if Wrackspurts are actually a serious concern! Oh, this is _great_.

You draw out the silence until it's awkward. "Quite a lot of them," you announce dreamily. "It really is quite amazing, Davinella." You begin humming the tune of 'Weasley is Our King'.

"That's Donna Vongola to you!" Donna Vongola snaps at you, and you instantly resolve to call her Davinella forever. You keep humming and staring off into space. "And what on Earth are Wrackspurts?"

"Oh..." your voice trails off. "Of course, you can't see them..."

And you begin rummaging in your pockets, handing Reborn a number of sandwiches that are in the way. There are far more sandwiches than there should logically fit in your pockets, but Reborn manages to hold them all. Then there are other items - a chocolate frog, a tea spoon, a cursing chess piece (hey! So that's where it was!), and a Spiderman costume. Finally, you find what you're looking for. "Aha!" you exclaim vaguely, and hold out the old pair of Spectrespecs with attached Wrackspurt siphons. A very thoughtful gift from Luna.

Donna Vongola looks at them with a disgusted expression. They do look rather peculiar - a pair of very glittery glasses that will without fail make the wearer look like a demented, multi-coloured owl with insect antennae. "Go on," you encourage, focusing your gaze onto the old bat so intently, it'll make anyone uncomfortable. "You’l be able to see the Wrackspurts!"

"I will not!" the old woman huffs. "Answer the question, girl!"

"Oh my, they got you quite badly," you whisper in astonishment, and put on the Spectrespecs. They don't actually do anything, just enhance the colour violet in your vision and add funny colours around everyone. And they look cool, that's the best thing about them. Also, since they obscure your eyes completely, you can look wherever you want with no one the wiser. Absently you begin to pocket your miscellaneous items and sandwiches, gathering them from an entertained-looking Reborn. Donna Vongola is talking again, you're humming and determinedly not listening as you fill your pockets; until you suddenly straighten and turn your gaze on her.

And start the Wrackspurt-Wiggle dance Luna taught you. It involves turning on the spot slowly and wiggling your body and your arms independently from one another. You nearly punch Reborn, pity it doesn't connect, but then, the key to this dance is to do it _slowly_ and look the partners in the eye during the times you're actually facing them. Donna Vongola is looking highly uncomfortable now, and you are enjoying this far too much.

Luna is a gift to humanity, you are certain of it, and you will tell her so the next time you see her. If she weren't such a great friend you would have married her. Alas, she's with Rolf now and very happy.

" _What_ are you doing," Reborn hisses, seeing as everyone else is at a loss for words.

"The Wrackspurt-Wiggle!" you explain enthusiastically, and wave your fingers before his face. "To ward off Wrackspurts!" Which is bollocks, of course, the dance is just a dance, and the Wrackspurt siphons on your glasses will ensure the safety of your mental health from dastardly Wrackspurts in any case, but _they_ don't know that. You grab Reborn's arm. "Join in!"

He gives you that incredulous stare that makes you want to crack up. Reborn is so funny! When he isn't terrifying or terrifyingly seductive, neither of which he is at the moment.

Alas, all good things come to an end, and Davinella di Vongola's hold on her temper is one of them.

Till now, you never had any idea what Viper meant when they said that Skies could force bonds. Because bonds are sacred, right? You make them over the course of years, over shared happiness and grief, over experiences, with people that mean something to you. Friendship and family, that is how you make them.

This, what Donna Vongola starts doing in this moment, it is _blasphemy_ to everything you believe in. There's this feeling, like she's tearing and ripping at and smothering you at the same time, in a place deep _inside_ you, like she’s laying siege on your very _soul_. It chafes, it _burns_.

And then the other six Skies follow her lead and join in on the Break-Kacey-down bandwagon.

You keep smiling your absent Luna-smile while Reborn's bones began to creak under your fingers and your knees buckle. Cold sweat gathers on your skin. Is this what Atlas feels like while he holds up the sky? Except you're keeping _seven_ Skies from crushing you which makes you way cooler than a mythological titan.

"Huh," you muse airily, and are viciously proud that your strain and pain isn't audible in your voice. Two of the Skies' faces are slowly turning purple, and Davinella is going suspiciously red. "A special breed of Nargles outside of mistletoe-habitat. Fascinating."

A Sky collapses. Another drops to his knees. You spare them a look. "Should have done the Wrackspurt-Wiggle while you still could," you tell them sagely, and nod proudly.

Reborn's hand gently covers yours that's crushing his arm. You keep smiling. If you don't keep your face muscles absolutely rigid, they'll slip and you'll start to scream. The Cruciatus Curse attacks the nervous system, what those Skies are doing goes far, far further. Your self has retreated to a deep safe space somewhere even deeper than they can reach. If the eyes are indeed windows to the soul, then they must look really empty right now. "Hi Reborn," you greet.

He doesn't look at all happy, curiously enough. "Let's go play," he says, and tugs you over to the ping-pong tables. Every step away from the Skies their attack gets weaker, and you finally manage to breathe again. Oxygen! The best things in life are for free!

Reborn hands you a ping-pong bat and begins to explain the rules and how to use the bat, not that you really listen, you're too busy enjoying the view of now three Skies attempting to catch their breath, two more leaning heavily against furniture or people, and the rest looking absolutely bloody furious.

Clearly, this round of Kacey vs. Mafia goes to you and your valiant companion-in-spirit, Luna Lovegood.

"Acacia," Reborn purrs. "Do you understand the rules?" He asks this in a tone that makes it clear that he knows you weren't listening. You should probably tell him that he's right about that, otherwise you're going to make a right fool of yourself.

Nah, admit nothing! Die like a man, woman, or person of non-binary gender identity! Cheers for gender equality!

How hard can ping-pong be anyway? All you have to do is get the ball to touch down on the other side of the table. Can't be that difficult.

Reborn begins and the ball comes flying at you with the speed of a bullet which makes no sense because it's a tiny plastic thing and the force with which it was launched should have crumpled it. Luckily your hand-eye coordination is at god-level and you actually manage to deflect the ball. In an astounding twist of fate, it goes nowhere near where it should and lands in Donna Vongola's eye instead. "My bad!" you shout gleefully, even though clearly the Wrackspurts are at fault.

Reborn gives you a narrow-eyed look. You return an innocent one which he can't see because of your Spectrespecs. Eh, whatever! He'll see you're innocent soon enough. See, it's just the arsehole Skies that get hit by errant ping-pong balls, no one _innocent_. You're practically a vigilante hero for hitting them, which is familiar territory.

"You're not very good at this game," Reborn remarks.

"Are you kidding? I rule at ping-pong!" you declare, twirling the bat in your hand and accidentally hitting your head with it. All intentional, of course, honestly!

"You have yet to score a single point," Reborn muses.

"I have the moral high ground, though," you point out proudly, and accidentally shoot a ping-pong ball into some dude's mouth just as he's about to unleash a spell on you. "Whoopsie! My fault entirely!" you shout across the room.

"I see how it is," Reborn muses idly. "You don't think you can win."

You laugh. "Of course I can win."

"Ho? I'm not seeing it." He shakes his head sadly as he serves the next ball.

Hahaha, he doesn't see it. He must be _blind_.

You bat the ball back and add a nasty bit of spin to it. When it hits the table surface, it almost springs into Reborn's eye.

"Oh my gosh, what rapid improvement I am suddenly experiencing!" you exclaim, clapping your hands to your cheeks in shock. "This must, in fact, be a gift from the _gernumbli!_ I have been blessed!" You clear your throat and begin to sing the Garden Gnome Song, a mournful tune that Luna composed and takes exactly seven hours and forty-two seconds to finish, twenty minutes less if you forgo the bagpipe-solo. Do you have bagpipes with you? No, you left those in your travel bag, drat, you should have listened to your gut instinct and packed them into your purse.

Reborn smirks at you. "How _exciting_ ," he purrs before you can sing more than two notes. Arse has no appreciation for the fine arts, uncultured buffoon that he is. "I wonder if it will last."

"It depends upon the constellation of stars, I wager," you tell him amicably. "Why, just yesterday I saw Jupiter and Mars standing at this angle-" You make a complicated gesture with your arms. "And just _think_ about the state of the Milky Way!" You shudder, and pull out a Milky Way chocolate bar to show him the direness of the situation.

Reborn apparently has no words. You are doing good.

In lieu of an answer, Reborn bats the ping pong ball across the table, you counter it in what is probably an expert manner. You're a natural at this game, clearly. But Reborn has a wealth of experience on his side, and the ball comes flying back. You slam your bat at it with Seeker's speed. Ha! Take that, Reborn! Argh, damn it! He hit it back.

This is when things become intense. You've always been horribly competitive when it came to sports. And this isn't just about sports! It's a battle! A battle in which you stand for all that is good, because that is who you _are_ and what you _do_ , and Reborn is the avatar of the Mafia, and this battle will determine the course of this private war of yours against the dark forces that have ruled your people for far too long-

"Using guns is cheating!" you growl.

Reborn gives you a smug smirk, blowing the yellow smoke from the barrel of his gun mockingly, eyes pointedly indicating the smouldering hole the ping pong ball left in its wake. How did he even _do_ that, by all means guns should be _useless_ in ping-pong. "It's Mafia ping-pong, _obviously_ it's well within the rules, Acacia," he points out.

In retrospect, you _really_ should have listened to the rules. Cheating's totally okay, apparently! You're a Gryffindor, though. Gryffindor's don't cheat.

But, it's not really cheating if the rules say it's okay. Though you break rules all the time (also a Gryffindor trait!), so you actually probably shouldn't cheat. Drat, this thought progress has the potential to turn into a death spiral of doom ending in confusion.

Reborn smirks. That settles it, the smug arse is going down! Now how to do this... best thing would be if nobody figures out just _how_ you cheated, so something subtle would be great... Oh yes, you know just the thing. Giving Reborn an obnoxious grin, you right your Spectrespecs, wandlessly and silently casting a spell on yourself.

A _Confundus_ charm, to be precise.  This might seem like a counter-productive spell to use on yourself, but it's actually a stroke of pure genius, which is what you are, a genius. For if there's anything that will allow you to realise your god-like hand-eye coordination's true potential, it is the ancient and most noble sport of Quidditch, and you've just confounded yourself into seeing all ping pong balls as snitches.

"Reborn, please don't take this the wrong way..." You give him an angelic smile. "But I'm going to _destroy_ you."

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You date continues. You have everything under control! Really...

 

You know _absolutely_ no moderation when it comes to sports. That's why you were Oliver's favourite.

By the time the winner has been determined the ping pong hall is in shambles, Reborn and you look like you've fought a war (you did!), and the commentator that joined after an hour is raving about how he hasn't seen a match this intense since Alaude vs. Daemon, which apparently was a few hundred years ago. That's really weird.

You won, of course. Evil never prevails! Also you heal faster than Reborn. How did you get hurt during a harmless game of ping-pong, one may ask? The answer has sideburns.

"Just you wait until the rematch," Reborn grouses. You've just left the ping-pong hall, ambling along the streets of Mafia Land.

"Ha! Eager to lose again, loser?" you crow, grinning obnoxiously. He glares at you. Eep! Scary!

"Fluke," he dismisses.

"You're a bad loser, loser," you comment. "And _that_ wasn't a fluke. Loser." You smirk triumphantly.

"Ho? And what makes you say that?" He gives you a sharp look, probably trying to figure out how and where you cheated. Good luck with that!

"What's golden and has wings?" you ask in return, making him blink in confusion. Poor sod doesn't know Quidditch! You'd enlighten him, but you actually really enjoy knowing things that he doesn't.

"That's a trick question," he settles for saying.

"It really isn't," you answer, and shrug. "But hey, whatever. Not like it's important. You'll just lose again next time, loser!"

He steps closer and does that thing with his eyes that makes them look all warm and nice. "Next time? Are you asking me out on another date, Acacia?" he asks smoothly, voice like velvet and dark chocolate, _oh Merlin_ this is bad. "Because if so..." He grasps your hand and presses a kiss to it. "I accept," he finishes.

"Riiiight, haha, gotta go!" you shout, an make to run away, but Reborn has skilfully steered you so that there's a wall behind you. Stupid hitman skillz.

Now it's his turn to smirk obnoxiously. "What do you say, Sunday next week?" he suggests, his thumb gently stroking your hand that he's still holding. Annoyingly, it sends shivers down your spine.

"How about April thirty-first?" you suggest innocently.

"That day doesn't exist," he points out dryly. Damn it!

"February twenty-ninth?"

"The next leap year is over two years away."

It is? You had no idea! "But the day _does_ exist," you say triumphantly. "And it happens to be the only day I could possibly fit you in, why, the time I had to take out of my busy schedule to play _ping-pong_ , you have no idea the lengths I went to to free it for you. You should be grateful the Great Skull graced you with his presence!"

"You're female," he says exasperatedly.

"My gender identity is whatever I say it is and if you protest I will call you a heteronormative douchecanoe," you destroy his argument.

"There is no need for that." He gives you a winning smile. "Would you like some dinner?"

...crap. Dilemma! Escaping Reborn vs. free food.

Free food wins, you're hungry despite munching on sandwiches in between matches (a bit of Russian Roulette because you didn't really remember which ones you laced with potions, and it's a good thing you had a bezoar with you!), and Reborn's company has been bearable so far. Also, Viper may or may not have said something about it only being a date if you got free dinner out of it. You'll do anything for their forgiveness!

"Your treat," you demand.

"That was implied," he answers and in one smooth motion tugs you around, places your hand on his elbow, and begins to walk. "Are you in the mood for anything special?" he asks conversationally. "Any favourites?"

Treacle tart, of course. But that's more dessert stuff, after all the moving around you did you'd rather like something more filling. (Though if you eat enough treacle tart, it's filling, too!)

"You pick," you shrug.

You might also be curious what kind of place he'll pick. Some super-swanky place you'll only get into because of his reputation, where everyone will give you disapproving looks because your clothes are war-torn and also ugly as sin? (You should probably mend them. It's your only Chudley Cannons shirt.)  Or will it be some cozy little restaurant? Reborn seems like the type to know all the best places to eat.

Leaving the choice to him turns out to be a questionable decision on your part because you end up in his appartment.

You give him a very, very flat look. It's flatter than Minnie MgG’s voice that time you gave her catnip for Christmas.

"Come in, make yourself at home," he croons, voice warm and welcoming, goddammit.

"Why are we here, exactly?" you ask.

"Because I make a mean pasta," he answers. "And you seemed to be tiring of crowds and assassination attempts for the day."

Observant, isn't he? You've never exactly been a fan of crowds. They're fine at a distance, and it's okay when they just want autographs or something. Hostile crowds are another matter entirely.

(The assassination attempts barely register anymore, though.)

"Also," Reborn steps closer with a smirk, bends down, you refuse to pull back no matter how much this unnerves you, "I like having you all to myself," he whispers into your ear.

"You don't have me at all!" you say. You don’t shriek it, nuh-uh. He chuckles lowly.

"No," he agrees. "But I have your company and attention, and I enjoy them immensely."

How the hell is this bastard so smooth?! It's not natural!

"We can go somewhere else, if you're uncomfortable," he murmurs, stepping back and giving you a bit of space.

"No, it's fine," you answer. "Pasta sounds good, actually."

He smiles. Not a smirk, not a smarmy grin, a smile. You realise instantly that he needs to stop doing that. Reborn's smiles are dangerous. "Come inside, then," he invites you in.

"Quick question, are there gonna be like seven Skies laying in wait behind that door?"

Reborn pauses, smile vanishing. "Donna Vongola made a request to meet you. She seemed uninterested in a confrontation, and she was a woman I respected. I was not aware she would bring company and act in the manner she did."

That's probably as close to an apology as it gets with him. If he's saying the truth, then his intentions weren't actually ill. _If._

You shrug. "Okay," you say.

"Okay?" His eyebrows rise, he sounds incredulous. "That's all? I _know_ how you must have hurt back there."

"Eh." You wave it off. "Only a little bit worse than the Cruciatus. Also, holding grudges is bad for the soul so I don't do that crap."

If he does it again, however, you won't be so nice about it. For now, those Skies will be the ones to feel your wrath. You _are_ the daughter of a Marauder and the goddaughter of another one! You need to set a good example for Teddy!

Reborn's place is pretty nice. Spacious. A part of the large room you enter is taken up by a large coffee-brown couch, a rug of the same colour but with yellow accents on the ground before it. It faces a large flat-screen telly. On the other side of the room stands a dining table with matching chairs, the dark polished wood matching what other furniture is there. The wallpaper is cream-coloured, with tiny little gold stripes running from floor to wall. An open kitchen borders the room, and two doors lead to what you assume are bathroom and bedroom.

"Impressed?" Reborn asks smugly.

Uh, no. Hello? You own a giant-ass villa with more rooms than you can count, a private beach, a freaking hangar, and a magical indoor-garden.

"It's all right. Could use some more purple," you shrug.

"Oh, I wouldn't mind some more _purple_ in my appartment," he says instantly. Okay, you kind of invited that one.

You can't think of a witty response, so you use your magic to sound a stomach growl. "I'm hungry," you tell him, half expecting him to use it for more flirting, but he chuckles.

"We can't have that," he says. "Why don't you sit down while I cook?"

"I'd rather help cook," you answer firmly. "Don't like sitting while others work."

He gives you an odd look. "As you wish."

This makes the top ten of weird situations you've been in, and that's including your time in school. _You're getting along_. Reborn knows his stuff when it comes to pasta, apparently; and distracted with cooking the flirting is kept to a manageable level. You only try to hit him with the cooking spoon twice. And throw it at him thrice. And you may have tried to stab him with an uncooked spaghetti. He finds it vastly amusing.

"So how have you spent your time?" he asks, both of you slouching on the ridiculously comfortable couch. You need a couch like this. The only question is, should you steal it or simply propagate a copy for yourself?

"Eh," you answer, shrugging.

Organising magic lessons for the magical population of Mafia Land, building a magic school on a floating island you conveniently inherited, impersonating Luna Lovegood. "Hunting Crumplehorned Snorkacks."

"Come again?"

"They have giant exploding horns," you inform him. "Kind of like Erumpents."

"Is that so," he says dryly.

"Mmm," you hum, slurping the last of your pasta. Yum.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Reborn asks. You still, staring at him, horrified. "What?"

"You want us to do date-stuff!" you wail in horror.

"I was under the assumption that this _was_ a date, Acacia," he points out drolly.

"Oh. Right. Haha, I gotta feed my octopus though, so bye! Thanks for the food!" You apparate away before you begin laughing hysterically.

(The new Anti Apparition wards around Mafia Land are lacking. They only prevent travel into or out of the island, however you're free to travel within the limits of the wards. If need be, you could probably just punch through the wards anyway, they're not that strong and since the island moves, they're not properly anchored either.)

And dammit. You forgot to get the couch.

 

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"Hey, hey! Vi! I need revenge help!" You throw yourself into the armchair before Viper. Due to being very enthusiastic, you nearly tumble over. And because you have far too much energy you cannot stop bouncing.

"You need regular help as well," Viper says.

"Why, did something happen?" you ask curiously.

"No, you're being quite normal." Viper takes a sip of their strawberry milk. "Revenge?"

"Yep!" You beam at your friend. "Those Skies really pissed me off, so I need to know where they live. I pulled their faces from the memory, so can you get me their names and address?" You hand over photo and money.

Viper takes both, examining the faces on the photo. It is quite a good shot, good enough for you to turn it into a moving picture. It has you, wearing your Spectrespecs and dancing the Wrackspurt Wiggle. Damn, you got some nice moves.

"I thought you didn't do grudges," Viper says.

"I don't, those people are far too insignificant anyway to even qualify for grudge-material," you muse. Viper snorts in amusement.

"The most powerful Skies of their generation, and you call them insignificant?" they ask.

"It would piss them off if they knew," you nod sagely. "And I'm not going to break my no-grudge policy for people like _them_. This is just for plain retaliation in reaction to morally reprehensive behaviour. Anyway, addresses? I wanna plant some moles."

Viper nods. "A good idea. Information on their movements will allow you to stay one step ahead of them and sabotage their operations, hitting them where it hurts. I'm assuming you have hired competent infiltrators?"

"What? No." You give Viper a weird look. "I was talking about actual moles. To ruin their lawns."

Viper gives you a stare flatter than the Netherlands. "Of course. What was I even expecting." They set their cup down. "They will just hire specialists to get rid of your moles."

"Oh! They'll be conjured moles! With none of regular moles' weaknesses," you explain. "And they will-" you make jazz-hands. "Multiply!"

"Such satisfying revenge," Viper comments dryly.

"Do you have any idea how much rich people value their frontyard? And how annoying molehills are to them?" You think back to long hours spent at Privet Drive, laying in wait to catch a digging rodent terrorising the neighbourhood. "Do you have any idea how annoying moles are in general? Of course, that is entirely forgiveable, they're sooo cute."

"And how will those Skies know that it is revenge at all?" Viper asks with a raised eyebrow.

You grin. "That's the best part! The molehills are going to spell messages to subtly mock them!" You grin proudly at your own genius.

Viper pinches the bridge of their nose. "I am suddenly very relieved you refuse to hold grudges."

"Don't worry," you say earnestly. "You can hold grudges for me. You can be my grudge manager in addition to my financial advisor."

Viper sighs deeply.

 

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**A/N: On another note, Kacey's subtly mocking molehill messages include but are not limited to:**

**"This lawn has been appropriated by the confederation of Wrackspurts"**  
"Hi I'm doing great, XOXO from Acacia"  
"Who reads this is stupid"  
"Constant Vigilance"  
and the poop emoji.

**Also, Viper is totally going to get revenge on Kacey's behalf because she's so very bad at it (in Viper's opinion.)**

 

 


End file.
